3  1822019547116 


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JN  VERS  TY  O     CALIFORNIA   SAN  DIEGO 


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presented  to  the 
UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 

by 

Wesley  Palms 


WOMEN  OF  THE  BIBLE. 


lustflrirnl  anil  terijitiuB  Ikrtrjjrs 


WOMEN  OF  THE  BIBLE 


EVE  OF  THE  OLD  TO  THE  MARYS  OF  THE 
NEW  TESTAMENT. 


BY  P.  C.  HEADLEY. 


AUBURN: 

DERBY,  MILLER,  AND  COMPANY. 
1850. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1850, 

BY  DERBY,  MILLER,  AND  CO. 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


THOMAS    B.   SMITH,   STBREOTYPBR, 
216  WILLIAM  STRKUT,  N.  Y. 


TO 


IRENE, 

MY   ONLY   AND  BELOVED   SISTER, 
THIS   VOLUME 

3nsrrM. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1850, 

BY  DERBYr,  MILLER,  AND  CO. 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


THOMAS    B.   SMITH,   STKRKOTYFKR, 
216  WIU.I^M  8TRKICT,  N    Y. 


TO 


IRENE, 

MY   ONLY  AND   BELOVED   SISTER, 
THIS   VOLUME 

3s  afftteatel    3rarriW. 


IT  was  not  the  design  of  adding  essentially  to 
Biblical  Literature,  neither  the  cacoethes  scri- 
bendi,  that  induced  the  Author  to  increase  the 
number  of  similar  works  which  have  appeared. 

It  was  the  suggestion  of  another,  enforced  by 
the  consideration,  that  while  there  are  elegant 
Gift  Books  of  Female  Scripture  Biography,  there 
is  no  volume  of  the  kind  for  more  general  read- 
ing. The  Bible  is  a  book  of  facts,  developing  all 
the  great  principles  of  moral  obligation  which 
concern  man.  In  these  sketches  it  has  been  the 
steady  aim  to  preserve  those  principles  inviolate, 
and  where  imagination  has  aided  in  completing 
the  narrative,  as  constantly  to  observe  the  known 


viii  PREFACE. 

laws  of  human  action,  and  their  peculiar  modifi- 
cation in  the  Hebrew  commonwealth. 

The  sketch  of  "The  Queen  of  Sheba,"  is 
from  the  pen  of  the  REV.  H.  W.  PARKER  ;  and 
by  permission  a  few  extracts  are  taken  from  a 
recent  work  entitled,  "  Sacred  Scenes  and  Char- 
acters." 

The  Frontispiece  and  tasteful  illustrations  are 
from  Original  Design,  by  the  promising  young 
Artist,  C.  L.  DERBY. 

The  biographies  are  in  chronological  order, 
and  will  make  an  outline  of  Scripture  History, 
including  nearly  all  the  heroic  and  distinguished 
women  of  the  Sacred  Annals. 

The  circumstances  under  which  they  were 
written  will  unavoidably  leave  traces  of  haste ; 
but  the  volume  is  committed  to  the  tide  of  popu- 
lar favor,  and  will  fulfil  its  mission  if  it  breathe 
encouragement  to  the  maternal  heart,  and  infuse 
the  spirit  of  their  high  destiny  to  any  extent, 
into  the  minds  of  the  women  of  America — a  land, 
which  in  its  moral,  no  less  than  its  civil  aspect, 
is  the  world's  modern  Palestine. 


I.— EVE. 

PAG  I 

Adam  alone  in  Paradise. — His  first  Interview  with  Eve. — Her  Temp- 
tation and  Fall.— Birth  of  Abel. — His  Death. — The  old  Age  and  Last 
Hours  of  Eve 13 


II.— SARAH. 

Sarah's  Youth  and  Marriage.— Life  in  Palestine. — Abram's  Visit  to 
the  Court  of  Pharaoh. — She  entertains  Angels.— Hagar's  Exile. — 
Birth  of  Isaac.— Hagar  banished  the  second  time. — Sacrifice  of  Isaac. 
—Sarah's  Death  and  Burial 27 


III.— REBEKAH. 

The  Embassy  of  Isaac  to  Haran. — Rebekah  at  the  Well. — The  Scene 
in  the  Domestic  Circle. — Departure  for  Canaan. — Isaac  walking  in 
the  Fields  sees  the  Servant  coming,  and  goes  forth  to  meet  his  Bride. 
— Uebekuh's  Death.— Her  Character J5 


IV.— RACHEL. 

Jacob's  Journey  to  Harnn. — Resting  by  the  Well,  Rachel  comes  with 
her  Flock. — Makes  himself  known. — Serves  Seven  Years  for  her. — 
The  Fraud  of  Laban  compels  him  to  take  Leah,  and  render  another 
Seven  Years'  Service  for  Rachel.— The  Flight.— Her  Death C5 


CONTENTS. 


V.— MIRIAM. 

PAGE 

Miriam  by  the  Nile.— Passage  of  the  Red  Sea,  and  her  Song.— Her  Fall. 
—Death  and  Burial.— Power  of  Faith ~5 


VL— DEBORAH. 

Deborah  beneath  the  Palm-tree  at  Bethel— Her  Interview  with  Barak. 
—The  Summoning  to  Battle.— The  Conflict  and  Victory.— Song  of 
Deborah  and  Barak.— Her  Character 91 


VII— JEPTHA'S  DAUGHTER. 

Jeptha  in  Exile.— Called  to  the  Generalship  of  the  Army.— His  Vow. 
—The  Victory  and  Return.— Met  by  his  Daughter.— Her  Lamenta- 
tion and  Sacrifice 105 


VIII.— DELILAH. 

Life's  Contrasts.— Samson's  Love  and  Fall.— Scene  from  Samson 
Agonistes.— The  Temple  of  Dagon  overthrown.— Delilah  Compared 
with  the  Hebrew  Womeii 115 


IX.— RUTH. 

The  Design  of  her  History.— The  Trial  in  Moab.— Ruth  and  Naomi 
retnrn  to  Bethlehem. — Ruth  Gleaning  in  the  Field  of  Boaz. — His 
Generosity.— Falls  in  Love  with  the  beautiful  Moabitess,  and  Mar- 
ries her.— Her  Character 127 


X.— HANNAH. 

Her  Trial  and  Faith.— The  Annual  Pilgrimage  to  Shiloh.— Her  Prayer 
and  the  Answer. — Birth  and  Consecration  of  Samuel. — Maternal 
Influence 141 


XL— QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

Description  of  Arabia,  the  Queen's  Realm.— Her  Character.— Journey 
to  Solomon's  Court.— The  Royal  Interview.— Her  Return.— Woman's 
Sphere 149 


CONTENTS.  XI 


Xn.— JEZEBEL. 

MM 

Jezebel's  Marriage  and  Influence  over  the  King. — Her  Persecution  of 
the  Prophets. — She  is  unmoved  by  the  Miracle  on  Mount  Carmel. — 
The  Murder  of  Naboth. — The  Queen's  Tragical  Death. — Compara- 
tive Seclusion  a  Blessing  to  Woman 173 


XHL— ATHALIAH. 

The  Family  of  Ahab.— Athaliah  Marries  Prince  Jehoram,  and  enters 
on  her  Career  of  Crime. — Massacre  of  the  "  Seed  Royal,"  and  Pres- 
ervation of  Joush. — The  Revolution. — Athaliah  Slain. — Origin  of 
Monarchy 187 

XIV.— THE  SHUNAMITE. 

Internal  Evidence  of  Inspiration  of  the  Bible.— Shunem.— The  Woman 
entertains  Elisha. — Promise  of  a  Son. — The  Boy  goes  to  the  Harvest 
Fields,  is  smitten  with  Disease,  borne  to  his  Mother,  and  Dies  at 
Noon.— The  Shunamite  hastens  to  the  Mountain  Home  of  Elisha. — 
He  restores  to  her  the  Sleeper 195 

XV.— ESTHER, 

Vast  Consequences  from  Small  Events. — The  Festival  of  Ahasuerus. — 
He  commands  the  Queen  to  grace  the  Banquet  with  her  Presence.— 
The  Refusal  and  Divorce. — Esther's  Appearance  with  the  Beautiful 
Maidens  in  the  King's  Palace. — Hainan's  Plot,  and  Esther's  Petition. 
— Her  Success  and  Noble  Character 209 


XVI.— ELIZABETH. 

The  Promise  of  a  -  Messiah. — Zacharias  in  the  Temple. — Family 
Scenes. — Birth  of  John. — Maternal  Influence  upon  the  Baptist's 
Character 229 

XVII.— THE  VIRGIN  MARY. 

Her  Interview  with  the  Angel.— Visit  to  Elizabeth.— Joseph's  Trial. — 
The  Sojourn  at  Bethlehem. — The  Family  keep  the  Passover  at  Jeru- 
salem.— Their  Residence  in  Nazareth. — The  Marriage  in  Cana. — 
Scene  at  the  Door  of  the  Synagogue  in  Capernavrm.— Mary  at  the 
Cross. — In  the  "  Upper  Room"  at  Jerusalem,  after  Christ's  Ascen- 
sion, with  the  Praying  Disciples 239 


Xll  CONTENTS. 


XVIIL— THE  SISTERS,  MARTHA  AND  MARY. 

PAGE 

The  Sisters,  Martha  and  Mary.— Contrast  between  the  Old  and  the 
New  Dispensation. — The  Family  of  Bethany. — Lazarus'  Sickness  and 
Death. — His  Resurrection. — The  Distinguishing  Traits  in  the  Charac- 
ters of  Martha  and  Mary. — The  Saviour's  Last  Supper  and  Interview 
with  them 261 


XIX.— TABITHA,  OR  DORCAS. 

Joppa. — Tabitha's  Residence  there,  her  Character,  and  Death. — She  is 
Raised  from  the  Dead  by  Peter.— Woman's  Influence  as  a  Maiden, 
Wife,  and  Mother 275 


EVE  has  a  brief  biography  in  the  Sacred 
Record.  Without  childhood  or  youth,  she 
came  from  the  moulding  hand  of  her  Cre- 
ator, in  the  full  maturity  of  her  powers,  and 
in  the  perfection  of  human  beauty. 

To  Adam  as  he  awakened  from  repose, 
she  came  like  a  morning  vision — the  bright 
presence  of  a  celestial.  How  long  he  had 
been  alone  in  Paradise,  we  do  not  know. 
But  he  had  held  communion  with  God  and 


14  EVE. 

the  angels ;  and  given  names  to  the  varie- 
ties of  animal  creation,  which  passed  before 
him  in  obedient  homage  to  their  solitary 
king.  He  had  looked  with  rapture  upon 
the  high  arch  of  his  wide  domain,  with  its 
wandering  clouds  and  nightly  stars — upon 
the  flashing  rivers,  and  waving  foliage  with 
its  golden  fruit. 

The  world  of  thought  within,  was  pure 
and  beautiful  as  the  world  without.  Kea- 
son  was  unshaken  in  its  majesty  and  clear 
in  its  judgment  tone,  conscience  perpetual- 
ly peaceful,  and  the  heart  tuned  to  the  har- 
monies of  Heaven.  "He  was  great  yet 
disconsolate"  in  his  garden  of  manifold  de- 
lights. He  heard  sometimes  the  voice  of 
Jehovah,  but  it  came  to  his  listening  ear 
with  the  authority'  of  a  Sovereign.  The 
Seraphim  walked  with  him  in  the  groves 
of  Eden,  but  they  were  of  a  higher  and 
more  etherial  nature.  Besides,  they  left 


EVE.  15 

him  to  many  hours  of  solitude,  in  which  no 
language  of  sympathy  broke  on  his  con- 
templations. Around  him,  in  all  the  myr- 
iads of  submissive  creatures,  he  found  in 
none  the  light  of  thought  and  the  dignity 
of  moral  character.  It  is  not  strange  with  a 
liwrnan  soul,  if  a  shadow  of  mysterious  lone- 
liness at  times  passed  over  his  ample  brow. 
He  longed  for  a  being  who  could  enter  into 
the  sphere  of  meditation  and  feeling  pecu- 
liar to  man.  This,  his  only  want,  was  grat- 
ified by  the  Deity,  when  he  brought  the 
first  maiden  and  wife,  in  "  unadorned  beau- 
ty," to  his  beating  heart.  He  received  with 
joyful  welcome  his  fair  companion,  and  re- 
cognized the  object  of  his  social  affections. 
They  flowed  freely  from  their  unsullied 
fountain,  and  were  reciprocated  with  the 
confiding  love  of  woman.  She  was  his 
equal  in  origin  and  immortality ;  and  they 
went  forth  from  the  marriage  rite,  which 


16  EVE. 

fell  from  the  lips  of  God,  to  contemplate  his 
works,  and  lift  an  anthem  of  praise — the 
first  epithalamium  of  earth.  To  Adam, 
Paradise  must  have  put  on  new  glory,  and 
the  very  trees  seemed  to  toss  their  green 
crowns  in  gladness  above  his  path. 

He  told  Eve  what  God  had  done  in  fit- 
ting up  their  abode,  and  gave  her  the  names 
of  animals  sporting  by  her  side. 

When  he  paused  before  the  mystic  "  tree 
of  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,"  near 
which  were  the  spreading  and  luxuriant 
branches  of  the  "tree  of  life,"  he  repeated 
the  awful  sanctions  of  eternal  Law,  which 
invested  that  single  tree  with  fearful  inter- 
est. It  pointed  like  an  index-finger  to  the 
skies,  and  reminded  them  of  the  holiness 
and  authority  of  the  Infinite  Lawgiver.  It 
was  there,  though  one  among  thousands,  in 
solitary  and  solemn  sublimity,  at  once  a 
memorial  of  love,  a  test  of  loyalty,  and  a 


EVE.  17 

beacon  of  warning,  bidding  them  beware 
how  they  dashed  madly  down  the  preci- 
pice of  moral  ruin.  They  contemplated 
that  forbidden  object  silently,  until  they 
bowed  and  prayed  for  strength  to  walk  in 
obedience,  erecting  beneath  its  shade  a  fam- 
ily altar  to  the  Lord. 

Beautiful  scene !  Heaven  bent  lovingly 
over  it,  and 

"  Aside  the  Devil  turned, 

For  envy." 

So  time  passed  on,  with  no  chronometer 
but  the  joy  of  holy  affection — with  no  dial 
but  the  shadows  of  evening  that  brought  no 
gloom,  and  the  dawn  of  morning  that  re- 
vealed more  of  the  glorious  Giver,  and 
added  new  notes  of  praise  to  their  hymns 
of  worship. 

But  one  day  Eve  wandered  alone  amid 
the  bowers  of  the  garden,  and  the  fallen 
Archangel  watched  her  goings  and  plotted 


18  EVE. 

her  ruin.  He  understood  the  subtle  power 
of  influence  wielded  with  the  magic  of 
genius,  and  approached  her  with  a  question 
touching  the  possibility  that  Jehovah  could 
with  propriety  prohibit  any  pleasurable  in- 
dulgence. The  purity  of  Eve's  mind  was 
stained  by  indecision  ;  she  did  not  repel  the 
insinuation  and  affirm  the  justness  of  the 
interdiction. 

The  tempter  became  more  positive,  and 
assured  her  that  she  might  partake  of  the 
fruit  without  apprehension  of  the  threatened 
death,  and  would  besides,  attain  a  glorious 
pre-eminence  in  knowledge.  She  listened, 
and  cast  a  glance  of  desire  upon  the  pen- 
dent boughs,  whose  fragrant  harvest  seemed 
to  invite  her  touch.  Fatal  pause  !  the  first 
act  in  a  moral  revolution,  extending  over 
the  ages  of  time  and  the  cycles  of  eternity. 

"  Forth  reaching  to  the  fruit,  she  plucked,  she  ate." 

Could  she  then  have  looked  down  the 


EVE.  19 

stream  of  history,  and  read  all  the  tragedies 
that  moment  of  pleasure  was  preparing  for 
the  souls  of  her  offspring,  how  would  her 
heart  have  burst  with  agony,  and  tears  of 
blood  have  stained  that  cheek,  flushed  with 
the  excitement  of  the  conflict  with  con- 
science, and  the  enjoyment  of  her  uncon- 
scious fall.  Pleased  with  the  achievement, 
and  meeting  not  immediately  the  mysteri- 
ous doom  she  had  feared,  Eve  sought  the 
bower  of  Adam,  and  urged  him.  to  eat  of 
the  pleasant  fruit ;  for  it  was  truly  as  the 
serpent  had  said.  He,  too,  fell  before  the 
temptation  presented  in  two-fold  strength, 
and  the  victory  of  "the  powers  of  dark- 
ness" was  complete. 

A  long  and  exultant  shout  went  through 
the  arches  of  hell,  and  methinks  every  harp 
in  Heaven  was  silent,  while  a  convulsive 
throb  was  felt  in  every  angel's  bosom,  and 
a  shadow  of  disappointment,  wonder,  and 


20  EVE. 

grief,  passed  over  the  features  of  the  celes- 
tial host. 

Eve  soon  appears  in  a  new  character. 
With  him  her  influence  had  ruined — she 
had  gone  forth  an  exile,  with  the  curse  of 
God  pursuing  her — and  became  a  mother. 
In  some  lonely  valley,  or  on  a  mountain 
side  of  the  world's  vast  wilderness,  with 
no  cheering  accents  but  the  voice  of  Adam, 
she  brought  forth  her  first-born.  Never 
was  there  a  more  desolate  mother.  She 
had  not  even  a  manger,  and  the  angels  who 
fled  affrighted  when  she  sinned,  came  no 
more  to  cheer  her  solitude  with  their  song  of 
thanksgiving.  She  could  pillow  her  aching 
head  on  the  breast  of  Adam,  but  it  brought 
only  bitter  recollections  of  brighter  days. 
With  maternal  interest  she  might  rejoice 
over  the  unconscious  heir  of  frailty  and  suf- 
fering ;  but  "  what  will  be  his  destiny  now 
we  are  fallen  ?"  was  a  question  that  could 


EVE.  21 

not  fail  to  oppress  her  loving  heart.  It 
would  seem  that  Abel  was  a  twin  brother. 
Whether  this  were  so  or  not,  his  name 
indicates  that  he  was  a  weaker  child  and 
less  tenderly  loved.  Eve  centered  her 
hopes  in  regard  to  the  Redeemer  and  the 
honor  of  her  family  in  Cain.  How  much 
this  fact  affected  his  character  and  cher- 
ished the  haughty  spirit  which  at  length 
made  him  a  fratricide,  we  cannot  tell. 

He  may  have  apprehended  something  sig- 
nificant in  the  sacrifices,  pointing  to  his  own 
death  as  a  type  of  the  Great  Sufferer.  A 
dark  thought  had  taken  possession  of  his 
mind,  and  in  sullen  mood  he  set  aside  the 
authority  of  parental  example  in  his  offer- 
ing to  the  Lord.  Jehovah  frowned  upon 
him,  while  the  smoke  of  his  oblation  as- 
cended ;  but  flooded  with  the  smile  of  his 
approval  the  altar  and  the  brow  of  Abel. 
In  the  conversation  which  followed,  Cain 


22  EVE. 

became  enraged,  and  smote  his  unoffending 
brother.  When  he  saw  the  warm  blood 
flowing  from  the  wounds  of  his  dying  vic- 
tim, and  met  the  reproach  of  his  fading  eye, 
conscience  with  its  terrors  was  let  loose 
upon  him,  and  branded  by  the  wrath  of 
God  he  fled  a  fugitive  from  the  face  of  his 
kindred. 

Adam  in  his  customary  walks,  or  led 
forth  by  the  long  absence  of  his  sons  into 
the  fields,  came  suddenly  upon  the  bloody 
corpse  of  Abel.  lie  beheld  the  marks  of 
violence,  but  the  companion  of  the  slain 
was  gone ;  and  while  he  knew  that  death 
had  entered  his  family,  it  was  murdsr  too 
—the  fearful  harvest  sown  by  parental 
transgression.  It  opened  the  ravages  of 
crime,  which  were  to  make  the  green  earth 
one  wide  field  of  battle.  When  the  shock 
was  over,  and  he  recovered  from  his  delir- 
ium of  anguish,  he  bore  the  tidings  to  Eve. 


EVE.  23 

Whether  she  was  partially  prepared  for  the 
bolt  by  his  despairing  face  and  incoherent 
expressions,  or  he  rushed  in  the  excess  of 
his  grief  into  her  presence,  with  the  shriek, 
"Abel  is  dead  /"  is  left  to  conj ecture.  When 
the  terrible  fact  was  known,  her  heart  sunk 
beneath  the  blow ;  for  to  the  depth  of  a 
mother's  sorrow  was  added  the  bitterness 
of  self-reproach. 

And  that  first  funeral  was  a  gloomy  one 
—the  uncoffined  form  was  carried  without 
a  knell  to  its  burial,  and  the  shadow  of  a 
grave  darkened  a  ruined  world.  Nor  since 
has  there  been  a  sadder  home  or  wilder  lam- 
entation, than  that  of  the  bereaved  patriarch 
and  his  bewailing  wife. 

The  years  melted  away,  and  Eve  was 
again  a  mother.  To  her,  evidently,  was  con- 
ceded the  right  of  naming  her  offspring. 
This  third  son  she  called  Seth,  or  the  ap- 
pointed, because  God  had  given  her  another 


24  EVE. 

to  fill  the  place  of  the  departed.  How  beau- 
tifully this  incident  shows  the  maternal  af- 
fection and  trusting  spirit  of  Eve !  Her 
weary  heart  had  a  new  object  upon  which 
to  pour  its  wealth  of  love,  and  she  recog- 
nized the  hand  of  her  injured  Father  in 
the  bestowment  of  a  blessing,  which  was 
to  link  her  destiny  with  the  advent  of  the 
promised  Christ. 

She  lived  to  be  the  centre  of  a  large  do- 
mestic circle,  and  to  behold  the  multiplying 
hundreds  of  a  sinful  and  a  suffering  race. 
Sowed  with  the  weight  of  years,  and  an 
experience  full  of  the  most  varied  and  stir- 
ring events,  she  reached  the  limit  of  life. 
Oh !  with  what  emotion  she  contemplated 
the  past,  while  looking  down  into  the  gulf 
of  dissolution.  Around  her  lay  the  wreck 
of  a  planet  which  filled  the  universe  with 
melody,  when  it  rolled  from  the  forming 
hand  of  God,  and  which  in  its  moral  destiny, 


EVE.  25 

had  there  been  no  interposition  of  grace, 
would  have  drifted  forever  from  its  orbit 
around  His  Throne.  Her  children  and 
friends  gathered  about  her  dying  couch,  to 
hear  her  last  accents  and  receive  her  bles- 
sing. Adam,  leaning  upon  his  staff,  stood  by 
her  pillow  and  bedewed  her  pale  forehead 
with  his  tears,  breathing  in  her  ear  comfort- 
ing words  concerning  the  mercy  of  the  Lord. 

In  the  struggles  of  that  hour,  Eve  could 
lean  alone  upon  the  promise  of  a  Messiah 
to  come — the  only  ray  penetrating  the  dark 
valley  was  that  dim  revelation  of  a  Saviour 
who  would  be  the  "resurrection  and  the 
life."  She  cast  a  mournful  glance  upon 
those  she  had  loved  and  ruined,  murmured 
a  farewell,  looked  upward  with  a  smile  of 
victory,  and  the  conflict  was  over — the 
mother  of  mankind  was  no  mwe. 

The  tidings  spread,  and  from  the  scat- 
tered dwellings  of  her  descendants  was 


26  EVE. 

heard  the  voice  of  weeping — for  Eve  had 
been  loved  for  her  affectionate  fidelity  to 
Adam,  and  her  tender  solicitude  for  the 
happiness  of  all.  Beside  she  retained  traces 
of  her  primeval  beauty,  and  subdued  by 
penitence,  she  lived  among  them  a  model 
of  matronly  dignity,  meekness  and  piety. 
Her  solemn  counsels  and  many  prayers 
were  remembered,  and  her  frailty  in  the 
ruinous  experiment  of  disobedience,  was 
well  nigh  forgotten  in  the  grief  of  an  orplian 
race.  In  silence,  except  the  sobs  of  unaf- 
fected mourning,  she  was  borne  to  her  grave 
beside  that  of  the  martyred  Abel. 

Though  no  epitaph  was  written,  as  of- 
ten as  the  eye  of  the  passer-by  fell  upon 
that  mound,  or  the  foliage  waving  over  it, 
he  read  the  language  of  those  words  writ- 
ten in  burning  capitals  over  the  gateway 
of  despair— "In  the  day  that  thou  eatest 
thereof,  THOU  SHALT  SUEELY  DIE." 


SARAI  was  a  Hebrew  maiden  of  remark- 
able beauty.  Her  childhood  and  youth 
were  passed  among  the  mountains  of  Ar- 
menia, whose  fine  climate  and  sublime  sce- 
nery developed  her  form  and  gave  strength 
to  her  intellectual  powers.  Her  noble  fig- 
ure, dark  eye  luminous  with  expression, 
and  the  graceful  dignity  of  her  manner, 
made  her  the  admiration  of  the  Chaldean 
shepherds  and  the  pride  of  her  kindred. 


28  SARAH. 

Among  the  wealthy  nomads  of  the  fruit- 
ful valleys  who  sought  her  hand  in  marriage, 
was  Abram,  a  kinsman.  A  worshipper  of 
the  infinite  One,  he  loved  her  for  her  ele- 
vated piety,  no  less  than  for  her  personal 
beauty.  And  doubtless  they  often  walked 
forth  together  beneath  the  nightly  sky, 
whose  transparent  air  in  that  latitude  made 
the  stars  impressively — 

"  The  burning  blazonry  of  God  !' 

Upon  the  hill-tops  around,  were  the  ob- 
servatories and  altars  of  Chaldean  philoso- 
phy, whose  disciples  worshipped  the  host 
of  Heaven.  In  the  serenity  of  such  an  hour, 
with  the  white  tents  reposing  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  the  "soul-like  sound"  of  the 
rustling  forest  alone  breaking  the  stillness, 
it  would  not  be  strange  as  they  gazed  on 
flaming  Orion  and  the  Pleiades  if  they  had 
bowed  with  the  devotee  of  Light,  while 


SARAH.  29 

"  Beneath  his  blue  and  beaming  sky, 
He  worshipped  at  their  lofty  shrine, 

And  deemed  he  saw  with  gifted  eye, 
The  Godhead  in  his  works  divine." 

But  a  purer  illumination  than  streamed 
from  that  radiant  dome,  brought  near  in 
his  ineffable  majesty  the  Eternal,  and  like 
the  holy  worshippers  of  Eden,  they  adored 
with  subdued  and  reverent  hearts,  their  in- 
finite Father. 

To  a  reflective  mind,  there  is  great  sub- 
limity and  impressiveness  in  the  purity 
and  growth  of  religious  principle,  in  cir- 
cumstances so  adverse  to  its  manifesta- 
tion. The  temptations  resisted — the  ear- 
nest communion  with  each  other — the  glo- 
rious aspirations  and  soarings  of  imagina- 
tion, when  morning  broke  upon  the  girdling 
summits,  and  when  evening  came  down 
with  its  stars,  and  its  rising  moon,  flooding 
with  glory  nature  in  her  repose ;  these  and 
a  thousand  lovely  and  touching  scenes  of 


30  SARAH. 

that  pastoral  life  are  all  unrecorded.  The 
great  events  in  history,  and  bold  points  in 
character,  are  seized  by  the  inspired  pen- 
man as  sufficient  to  sweep  the  grand  out- 
line of  God's  providential  and  moral  gov- 
ernment over  the  world,  and  his  care  of  his 
people. 

Just  when  it  would  best  accomplish  his 
designs,  which  are  ever  marching  like  des- 
tiny to  their  fulfilment,  Jehovah  called  to 
Abram,  and  bade  him  go  to  a  distant  land 
Avhich  he  would  show  him.  With  his 
father-in-law  and  with  Lot,  his  flocks  and 
herds,  he  journeyed  toward  Palestine. — 
When  he  arrived  at  Haran,  in  Mesopota- 
mia, pleased  with  the  country,  and  probably 
influenced  by  the  declining  health  of  the 
aged  Terah,  he  took  up  his  residence  there. 
Here  he  remained  till  the  venerable  patri- 
arch, Sarai's  father,  died.  The  circle  of 
relatives  bore  him  to  the  grave,  and  kept 


SARAH.  31 

the  days  of  mourning.  But  the  dutiful 
daughter  wept  in  the  solitary  grief  of  an  or- 
phan's heart.  A  few  years  before,  she  had 
lost  a  brother,  and  now  the  father  to  whom 
she  was  the  last  flower  that  bloomed  on 
the  desert  of  age,  and  who  lavished  his  love 
upon  her,  Avas  buried  among  strangers. 

Then  the  command  to  move  forward  to 
his  promised  inheritance  came  again  to 
Abram.  Sarai  shecl  upon  that  lonely  grave 
the  baptism  of  her  tears,  and  turned  away 
in  the  sad  beauty  of  mourning  to  fold  her 
tent  and  enter  the  shadows  of  an  untravelled 
wilderness.  They  journeyed  on  among  the 
hills,  encamping  at  night  beside  a  mountain 
spring,  and  beneath  the  unclouded  heavens 
arching  their  path,  changeless  and  watchful 
as  the  love  of  God — exiles  by  the  power  of 
their  simple  faith  in  him.  Soon  as  they 
reached  Palestine,  Abram  consecrated  its 
very  soil  by  erecting  a  family  altar,  first  in 


32  SARAH. 

the  plain  of  Moreh,  and  again  on  the  sum- 
mits that  catch  the  smile  of  morning  near 

i 
the  hamlet  of  Bethel. 

Months  stepped  away  rapidly  as  silently, 
old  associations  wore  off,  and  Abram  was 
a  wealthy  and  happy  man  in  the  luxuriant 
vales  of  Canaan.  His  nocks  dotted  the 
plains,  and  his  cattle  sent  down  their  low- 
ing from  encircling  hills.  But  more  than 
these  to  him  was  the  affection  of  his  beau- 
tiful wife.  Her  eye  watched  his  form  along 
the  winding  way,  when  with  the  ascending 
sun  he  went  out  on  the  dewy  slopes ;  and 
kindled  with  a  serene  welcome  when  at 
night-fall  he  returned  for  repose  amid  the 
sacred  joys  of  home. 

At  length  there  came  on  a  fearful  famine. 
The  rain  was  withholden,  and  the  dew 
shed  its  benediction  no  more  upon  the  earth. 
He  was  compelled  to  seek  bread  at  the 
court  of  Pharaoh,  or  perish.  Knowing  the 


SARAH.  33 

power  of  female  beauty,  and  the  want  of 
principle  among  the  Egyptian  princes,  he 
feared  assassination  and  the  captivity  of 
Sarai  which  would  follow.  Haunted  with 
this  apprehension,  he  told  her  to  affirm 
upon  inquiry  that  she  was  his  sister — 
which  was  not  a  direct  falsehood,  but  only 
so  by  implication.  According  to  the  Jew- 
ish mode  of  reckoning  she  might  be  called 
a  sister,  and  Abrani  stooped  to  this  pre- 
varication under  that  terrible  excitement 
of  fear,  which,  in  the  case  of  Peter,  drove 
a  true  disciple  of  Christ  to  the  brink  of 
apostasy  and  despair. 

But  his  deception  involved  him  in  the 
very  difficulty  he  designed  to  escape.  The 
king's  courtiers  saw  the  handsome  Hebrew, 
and  extolled  her  beauty  before  him.  He 
summoned  her  to  the  apartments  of  the 
palace,  and  captivated  by  her  loveliness, 
determined  to  make  her  his  bride.  During 

2* 


34  SARAH. 

the  agonizing  suspense  of  Abram,  and  the 
concealed  anguish  of  Sarai  in  her  conscious 
degradation,  the  hours  wore  heavily  away, 
until  the  judgments  of  God  upon  the  royal 
household  brought  deliverance.  Pharaoh, 
though  an  idolater,  knew  by  this  supernat- 
ural infliction,  that  there  was  guilt  in  the 
transaction,  and  called  Abram  to  an  ac- 
count. He  had  nothing  to  say  in  self-acquit- 
tal, and  with  a  strange  magnanimity,  was 
sent  away  with  his  wife  and  his  property 
quietly ;  followed  only  by  the  reproaches  of 
Pharaoh,  and  his  own  wakeful  conscience. 

Abram  returned  to  Palestine,  became  a 
victor  in  fierce  battles  with  a  vastly  out- 
numbering foe,  and  was  in  possession  of  a 
splendid  fortune.  Yet  Sarai  was  unhappy 
because  she  was  childless.  She  had  the 
Lord's  promise  that  a  son  should  beguile 
the  hours  of  declining  life,  but  the  years 
fled,  and  there  was  no  token  of  fulfilment. 


SARAH.  35 

In  lier  disappointment  and  impatience  she 
told  her  husband  it  was  folly  to  hope  on, 
and  pointed  to  Hagar,  a  servant,  as  the  mo- 
ther of  the  expected  heir.  By  following 
his  suggestion  in  Egypt  she  went  to  the 
verge  of  ruin,  and  now  in  turn  is  the  temp- 
ter, involving  her  family  in  guilt  and  dis- 
cord that  almost  broke  the  heart  of  Abram. 
When  the  slave  was  likely  to  bear  a  son, 
her  vanity  was  excited,  and  she  treated 
Sarai  with  scorn  that  roused  her  indigna- 
tion. Hagar  was  banished  and  became  a 
friendless  fugitive  in  the  wilderness — where 
the  angel  of  God  found  her  weary  and  faint- 
ing, led  her  to  a  gushing  spring,  and  there 
bade  her  go  back  submissively  to  her  mis- 
tress. 

Soon  after  Jehovah  appeared  to  Abram 
in  a  glorious  vision,  talking  with  him  as 
friend  to  friend.  He  fell  on  his  face  in  the 
dust,  as  did  the  exile  of  Patmos  ages  after, 


36  SARAH. 

while  a  voice  of  affection  and  hope,  canie 
from  the  bending  sky — "  I  am  the  Almighty 
God ;  walk  before  me  and  be  thou  perfect." 
The  solemn  covenant  involving  the  great- 
ness and  splendor  of  the  people  and  com- 
monwealth that  should  spring  from  the  soli- 
tary pair,  was  renewed ;  and  as  an  outward 
seal,  he  was  named  Abraham,  The  father  of 
a  great  multitude — and  his  wife  Sarah,  The 
princess.  Still  he  laughed  at  the  absurdity 
that  Sarah  would  ever  be  a  mother,  and  in- 
voked a  blessing  on  Ishmael,  but  evidently 
said  nothing  to  her  upon  a  subject  dismissed 
as  incredible  from  his  thoughts.  For  when 
the  celestial  messengers  were  in  the  tent 
on  their  way  to  warn  Lot,  she  listened  to 
their  earnest  conversation,  concealed  by  the 
curtains,  and  hearing  that  repeated  prom- 
ise based  on  the  immutability  of  God,  also 
laughed  with  bitter  mirth,  at  her  hopeless 
prospect  in  regard  to  the  marvellous  pre- 


SARAH.  37 

diction.  And  when  one  of  the  Angels,  who 
was  Jehovah  veiled  in  human  form,  as  af- 
terwards "  manifest  in  the  flesh,"  charged 
her  with  this  unbelief  and  levity,  the  dis- 
covery roused  her  fears,  and  approaching 
him,  without  hesitation,  she  denied  the  fact. 
He  knew  perfectly  her  sudden  apprehen- 
sion, and  only  repeated  the  accusation,  en- 
forced doubtless  by  a  glance  of  omniscience, 
like  that  which  pierced  the  heart  of  Peter. 
The  group  separated,  and  two  of  those 
bright  beings  went  on  to  Sodom.  The 
next  morning  Abraham  walked  out  upon 
the  plain,  and  looked  towards  the  home  of 
Lot.  He  saw  the  smoke  as  of  a  great  fur- 
nace going  up  to  the  calm  azure,  from  the 
scathed  and  blackened  plains  where  life  was 
so  busy  and  joyous  a  few  hours  before  ! 
With  a  heavy  heart  he  returned  to  his  tent, 
and  brought  Sarah  forth  to  behold  the  scene. 
She  clung  with  trembling  to  his  side,  while 


38  SARAH. 

she  listened  to  the  narration  of  the  terrible 
overthrow  of  those  gorgeous  cities,  and  the 
rescue  of  her  brother's  household,  and  be- 
held in  the  distance  the  seething  and  silent 
grave  of  millions,  sending  up  a  swaying  col- 
umn of  ebon,  cloud-like  incense  to  God's 
burning  indignation  against  sin. 

They  left  the  vale  of  Mamre,  and  jour- 
neyed to  Gera,  where,  with  a  marvellous 
forgetfulness  of  the  past,  the  beauty  of  Sa- 
rah again  led  them  into  deception  and  false- 
hood, and  with  the  same  result  as  before. 
Abimelech,  the  king,  would  have  taken  her 
for  his  wife  as  Abraham's  sister,  had  not 
God  appeared  in  a  dream  threatening  im- 
mediate death.  Upon  pleading  his  inno- 
cence he  was  spared,  and  expostulating 
with  his  guest,  generously  offered  him  a 
choice  of  residence  in  the  land ;  but  rebuked 
Sarah  with  merited  severity. 

Prophecy  and  covenant  now  hastened  to 


SARAH.  39 

their  fulfilment.  Sarah  gave  birth  to  a  son, 
and  with  the  name  of  Grod  on  her  lips,  she 
gave  utterance  to  holy  rapture.  With  all 
her  faults,  she  was  a  pious  and  noble  wo- 
man. She  meant  to  train  him  for  the  Lord, 
and  therefore  when  she  saw  young  Ishniael 
mocking  at  the  festival  of  his  weaning,  she 
besought  her  husband  to  send  away  the 
irreverent  son,  whose  influence  might  ruin 
the  consecrated  Isaac.  Hagar,  with  a  gen- 
erous provision  for  her  wants,  was  once 
more  a  fugitive ;  and  the  Most  High  ap- 
proved the  solicitude  of  a  mother  for  an 
only  child,  around  whose  destiny  was  gath- 
ered the  interest  of  ages,  and  the  hopes  of 
a  world. 

And  now,  with  the  solemn  shadows  of 
life's  evening  hours  falling  around  her,  and 
a  heart  subdued  by  the  discipline  of  Provi- 
dence, in  the  fullness  of  love  which  had 
been  rising  so  long  within  the  barriers  of 


40  SARAH. 

hope  deferred,  she  bent  prayerfully  over  the 
very  slumbers  of  that  fair  boy,  and  taught 
him  the  precious  name  of  God,  with  the 
first  prattle  of  his  infant  lips.  How  proud- 
ly she  watched  the  unfolding  of  this  bud  of 
promise.  When  in  the  pastimes  of  child- 
hood, he  played  before  the  tent-door,  or  with 
a  shout  of  gladness  ran  to  meet  Abraham 
returning  from  the  folds,  her  calm  and  glow- 
ing eye  marked  his  footsteps,  and  her  grate- 
ful aspirations  for  a  blessing  on  the  lad 
went  up  to  the  Heaven  of  heavens.  At 
length  he  stood  before  her  in  the  manliness 
and  beauty  of  youth  unscarred  by  the  rage 
of  passions,  and  with  a  brow  open  and 
laughing  as  the  radiant  sky  of  his  own 
lovely  Palestine. 

It  was  a  morning  which  flooded  the  dewy 
plains  with  glory,  and  filled  the  groves  with 
music,  when  Abraham  came  in  from  his 
wonted  communion  with  God,  and  called 


SARAH.  41 

for  Isaac,  and  told  Mm  to  prepare  for  a 
three  days'  journey  into  the  wilderness. 
How  tenderly  was  Sarah  regarded  in  this 
scene  of  trial.  Evidently  no  information 
of  the  awful  command  to  sacrifice  the  son 
of  her  old  age,  was  made  to  her.  She 
might  have  read  something  fearful  in  the 
lines  of  anxious  thought  and  the  workings 
of  deep  emotion  in  the  face  of  Abraham. 
But  he  evaded  all  inquiries  on  the  subject, 
"  clave  the  wood,"  and  accompanied  by  two 
of  his  young  men,  turned  from  his  dwelling 
with  a  blessing  from  that  wondering  mother, 
and  was  soon  lost  from  her  straining  vision 
among  the  distant  hills.  Upon  the  third 
day  he  saw  the  top  of  Mount  Moriah  kind- 
ling in  the  rising  sun,  and  taking  Isaac 
alone,  ascended  to  the  summit,  whereon 
was  to  be  reared  an  altar,  which  awakened 
more  intense  solicitude  in  heaven,  than  any 
offering  before  or  since,  except  on  Calvary, 


42  SARAH. 

where  God's  "only-begotten  and  well-be- 
loved son"  was  slain.  There  is  no  higher 
moral  sublimity,  than  the  unwavering  trust 
and  cheerful  obedience  of  this  patriarch, 
when  the  very  oath  of  the  Almighty  seemed 
perjured,  and  the  bow  of  promise  blotted 
from  the  firmament  of  faith  !  But  he  be- 
lieved Jehovah,  and  would  have  clung  to 
his  assurance,  though  the  earth  had  reeled 
in  her  orbit,  and  every  star  drifted  from 
its  moorings.  He  prayed  for  strength,  with 
his  "hand  on  the  forehead  of  his  submissive 
son. 


"  He  rose  up  and  laid 
The  wood  upon  the  altar.    All  was  done, 
He  stood  a  moment — and  a  deep,  quick  flush 
Passed  o'er  his  countenance ;  and  then  he  nerved 
His  spirit  with  a  bitter  strength,  and  spoke — 
"  Isaac !  my  only  son  " — The  boy  looked  up, 
And  Abraham  turned  his  face  away  and  wept. 
"  Where  is  the  lamb,  my  father  ?'' — 0,  the  tones, 
The  sweet,  the  thrilling  music  of  a  child ! 
How  it  doth  agonize  at  such  an  hour ! 
It  was  the  last,  deep  struggle — Abraham  held 
His  loved,  his  beautiful,  his  only  son, 


SARAH.  43 

And  lifted  up  his  arm,  and  called  on  God — 
And  lo !  God'a  Angel  staid  him — and  he  fell 
Upon  his  face  and  wept." 

When  on  his  return  he  told  Sarah  of  his 
strange  mission,  and  how  the  Lord  stayed 
his  uplifted  hand  when  the  struggle  had 
passed,  with  deeper  yearnings  of  the  ma- 
ternal heart  she  clasped  Isaac  to  her  bosom, 
and  mingled  with  his  own,  her  tears  of  joy. 
She  did  not  long  survive  this  last  test  of 
fidelity,  itself  the  crowning  evidence  that 
she  was  the  mother  whose  posterity  would 
out-number  the  stars.  At  Kirjath-arba,  in 
the  vale  of  Hebron,  during  the  absence  of 
Abraham,  Sarah  died.  When  he  heard  of 
her  death,  he  hastened  to  her  burial,  "to 
mourn  and  to  weep  for  her."  There  is  no 
more  affecting  funeral  scene  in  history. 
Bending  over  the  corpse  of  his  beautiful 
and  devoted  wife,  he  looked  upon  the 
strangers  about  him,  and  while  his  hoary 


44  SARAH. 

locks  shook  with  the  excitement  of  grief, 
he  sobbed  aloud,  "  I  am  a  stranger  and  a 
sojourner  with  you ;  give  me  a  possession 
of  a  burying  place  with  you,  that  I  may 
bury  my  dead  out  of  my  sight." 

He  bought  the  field  of  Machpelah,  and  in 
a  cave,  which  seemed  to  have  been  formed 
for  a  sepulchre,  beneath  the  shade  of  forest 
trees,  he  laid  the  form  he  loved  when  a 
beauteous  maiden,  the  noblest  of  wives, 
and  a  faithful,  praying  mother.  With  Isaac 
weeping  at  his  side,  he  turned  away  to  en- 
force on  his  tender  spirit  her  holy  counsels, 
and  wait  further  .upon  the  providence  of 
God  toward  the  youth ;  upon  whom  must 
fall  the  patriarchal  mantle,  and  who  was  to 
guard  and  transmit  the  knowledge  and  wor- 
ship of  Jehovah. 


IT  was  sunset  on  the  plains  of  Mesopo- 
tamia. Around  them  stood  the  mountains, 
with  their  brows  bathed  in  the  glow  of  an 
oriental  day,  as  it  dropped  gloriously  behind 
them.  Far  down  their  darkening  sides,  the 
flocks  were  gathering  to  their  folds,  and 
with  a  softened  murmur  the  echoes  went 
up  from  the  distant  city  in  the  vale  of  Ha- 
ran,  towards  whose  gates  from  the  inter- 
locking hills  of  the  south,  wound  slowly  a 

3* 


46  REBEKAH. 

strange  cavalcade.  The  camels  were  la- 
den richly,  and  walked  wearily,  for  they  had 
travelled  from  Palestine,  which  was  more 
than  four  hundred  miles  from  Haran. 
They  were  led  by  an  aged  man  of  patriar- 
chal air,  whose  calm  face  revealed  both  a 
thoughtful  mind,  and  the  dignity  of  good- 
ness ;  while  his  flowing  beard  fell  upon  his 
breast  white  as  a  wreath  of  snow.  He 
was  the  faithful  steward  of  Abraham,  and 
with  an  oath  of  fidelity  in  his  mission,  jour- 
neyed to  the  land  of  Nahor  to  choose  a  bride 
for  Isaac,  worthy  of  the  honor,  and  educa- 
ted in  the  religion  of  his  father.  The  shad- 
ows of  twilight  were  deepening  upon  the 
landscape,  when  he  passed  beside  a  well  in 
the  suburbs  of  the  city,  and  gazed  upon  its 
walls  with  the  intense  emotion  which  agi- 
tates the  heart,  when  the  conflict  between 
hope  and  fear  is  drawing  to  a  final  issue. 
And  besides  his  contemplations  of  the  In  vis- 


REBEKAH.  47 

ible,  he  had  but  one  thought  during  all  his 
days  of  lonely  travel,  and  his  nights  of  wake- 
fulness  beneath  the  beaming  sky  above  his 
roofless  head :  "  Where  shall  I  find  the  mai- 
den my  master  will  approve,  and  his  only 
son  receive  to  his  home,  as  the  second pi*in- 
ce$s  in  their  illustrious  line?  It  was  the 
time  of  evening  when  the  women  came  out 
to  draw  water,  and  he  determined  to  make 
the  occasion  decisive,  under  the  direction  of 
God. 

He  made  the  camels  kneel  about  him, 
and  bowing  himself  in  prayer,  he  besought 
the  Lord  "to  give  him  speed"  in  the  mat- 
ter for  Abraham,  his  servant's  sake.  It  was 
no  formal  prayer  he  breathed  upon  the 
quiet  air,  which  scarcely  lifted  the  hoary 
locks  from  his  anxious  brow.  It  was  no 
wavering  faith  that  cast  all  the  care  of 
his  troubled  spirit  on  Jehovah,  desiring  the 
sign  of  his  approval  in  a  simple  expression 


48  REBEKAH. 

of  Eastern  hospitality.  And  while  lie  was 
communing  with  God,  Kebekah  the  daugh- 
ter of  Bethuel,  came  out  bearing  her  pitch- 
er ;  and,  "the  damsel  was  very  fair  to  look 
iipon?  Her  singular  beauty  arrested  the 
eye  of  Eliezer.  He  watched  her  while  she 
ran  to  the  fountain,  so  airily, 

"  The  light  spring- flower  would  scarcely  bow- 
Beneath  her  step," — 

and  stooped  to  the  waters,  like  a  white 
swan  bending  to  the  glassy  wave.  Then 
lifting  the  pitcher  to  her  shoulder,  upon 
which  the  raven  ringlets  fell  wavingly  from 
her  fair  forehead,  she  stood  before  him  in 
the  fading  light,  the  impersonation  of  virgin 
loveliness.  She  did  not  see  the  charmed 
Eliezer,  and  hastened  nymph-like  along  her 
star-lit  path,  towards  the  city  gate.  Start- 
ing as  from  a  dream,  he  ran  forward  to  meet 
her,  and  asked  permission  to  drink  of  the 
water.  She  immediately  dropped  the  pitch- 


REBEKAH.  49 

er  upon  her  hand  and  said, "  Drink,  uiy  lord." 
Just  then  she  observed  the  panting  camels, 
and  with  the  same  disinterested  kindness, 
and  a  voice  which  was  the  very  music  of 
love,  offered  to  draw  water  "  for  them  also, 
until  they  had  done  drinking."  He  was  so 
absorbed  by  a  solemn  interest  of  which  she 
knew  nothing,  that  "he  held  his  peace," 
without  even  rendering  aid  to  Rebekah; 
but  mutely  admiring  her  faultless  person, 
and  generous  deed,  he  wondered  if  that 
beautiful  being  was  the  object  of  his  toil- 
some pilgrimage.  She  had  given  the  sign 
unconsciously,  of  his  own  choosing,  and  the 
fact  gradually  spread  hopeful  tranquillity 
over  his  bewildered  thought.  He  gave  her 
an  ear-ring  of  pure  gold,  and  a  pair  of  cost- 
ly bracelets,  inquiring  after  her  father's 
house,  and  if  he  could  have  entertainment 
there  for  the  night.  The  maiden  modestly 
told  her  lineage,  assuring  him  both  of  a  kind 


50  REBEKAH. 

reception  and  abundant  provision  for  his 
animals.  When  he  knew  it  was  the  fam- 
ily of  Nahor,  the  pious  and  shrewd  old  man 
doubted  no  more,  but  recognized  the  hand 
of  the  Lord.  He  bowed  in  grateful  adora- 
tion on  the  dewy  earth,  amid  the  stillness 
of  nature  reposing  upon  the  bosom  of  God, 
and  poured  forth  from  a  full  heart  his 
thanksgiving.  Rebekah  ran  to  her  mother, 
told  her  what  had  happened,  and  the  mys- 
terious words  the  man  had  spoken.  This 
simple  incident  is  a  sweet  glimpse  at  the 
amiable  and  filial  character  of  Milcah's 
daughter. 

While  they  were  talking  over  the  mar- 
vellous occurrence,  Laban,  a  brother,  went 
out  to  see  who  the  wealthy  stranger  might 
be,  and  learn  his  design  in  visiting  their 
beautiful  city.  Doubtless  he  was  more  in- 
terested in  the  shekels  of  gold  than  the 
(Jwotional  expressions  his  sister  repeated. - 


REBEKAH.  51 

But  wlien  lie  found  him  at  the  well,  in  the 
apparent  disinterestedness  of  a  true  patri- 
arch, with  a  benediction,  he  bade  him  come 
to  his  dwelling,  for  every  preparation  was 
made  for  his  accommodation.  Soon  the 
girdle  and  sandals  were  removed,  and  he 
was  invited  to  partake  of  the  evening  re- 
past. And  now  appears  the  tact,  eloquence, 
and  religious  principle  of  this  servant,  which 
were  evidently  the  ground  of  Abraham's 
confidence  in  his  management,  in  the  dis- 
course and  special  pleading  before  the 
household  of  his  entertainer. 

With  solemnity  becoming  his  responsi- 
bility, he  refused  to  eat  till  he  had  made 
known  his  errand.  He  then  introduces 
himself  as  the  servant  of  Abraham,  who  by 
the  blessing  of  God,  he  adds,  "  is  become 
great."  After  describing  the  magnitude  of 
his  vast  possessions,  he  makes  a  graceful 
transition  to  Isaac,  the  sole  heir  of  this  fame 


52  EEBEKAH. 

and  splendid  inheritance.  He  gives  the 
reason  for  his  long  journey  in  search  of  a 
bride,  the  irreligious  character  of  the  Ca- 
naanites,  narrating  the  conversation  with 
his  master,  and  the  hesitation  he  felt  in  en- 
tering upon  the  delicate  undertaking.  The 
entire  scene  at  the  well  is  minutely  deline- 
ated, to  convince  them  that  the  Almighty 
had  sanctioned  the  transaction,  and  be- 
stowed unequivocal  signs  of  his  approbation 
of  the  choice.  Without  doubt,  he  marked 
the  impression  his  address  made  on  the 
listening  group,  and  was  not  afraid  to  throw 
the  entire  matter  upon  their  decision.  He 
had  completely  won  the  father  and  broth- 
er to  his  purpose,  and  they  referred  the 
whole  question  to  Rebekah.  There  was  a 
struggle  in  the  mother's  bosom,  and  Rebekah 
hung  upon  her  neck  in  tears.  Eliezer  evi- 
dently regarded  the  matter  as  settled,  and 
distributed  with  princely  liberality  his  mag- 


REBEKAH.  53 

nificent  presents  among  the  members  of  the 
family. 

At  a  late  hour  they  retired  for  repose, 
but  how  little  slumber  in  that  dwelling ! 
The  successful  servant  may  have  fallen  into 
pleasant  dreams,  Bethuel  and  Laban,  proud 
of  the  prospective  alliance,  may  have  slept, 
thronged  with  golden  visions ;  but  the  heart 
of  the  maiden  never  beat  so  wildly  before, 
and  life  assumed  a  strange  reality,  to  her 
musing  and  restless  spirit.  The  mother 
was  sorrowful  and  prayerful,  for  an  only 
daughter  was  the  sacrifice  demanded,  and 
sending  her  to  Canaan,  was  like  burying  her 
from  sight  forever. 

In  the  morning  came  the  final  trial — 
when  God's  eternal  puposes  were  borne 
onward  by  the  unostentatious  incidents  of 
a  touching  domestic  scene.  And  who  can 
tell  the  influence,  though  unseen,  of  the  his- 
tory of  any  family  upon  the  destinies  of  a 


54  REBEKAH. 

succeeding  generation!  Eliezer  signified 
the  necessity  of  his  immediate  departure. 
Milcah  and  Laban  besought  him  to  tarry 
a  few  days,  for  they  could  not  part  thus 
suddenly  with  the  damsel.  But  there  were 
mightier  interests  than  those  of  time  at  stake, 
and  he  was  firm  in  his  purpose.  Eebekah 
was  called,  and  asked  if  she  were  willing  to 
go  immediately  with  the  man.  She  was 
prepared  by  a  higher  communion  than  that 
with  kindred,  and  the  heroism  of  cheerful 
piety,  to  answer  unhesitatingly,  "Iicill  go." 
When  the  circumstances  are  considered, 
there  is  here  a  moral  sublimity,  pure  and 
impressive,  as  that  which  hung  around  the 
first  female  who  abandoned  the  land  of  her 
birth  and  the  friendships  of  home,  for  the 
wide  ocean,  and  a  grave  on  plains  overshad- 
owed by  the  temples  of  idol-worship. 

With  blessings  upon  her  head,  and  tear- 
ful adieus,  in  her  queenly  womanhood,  the 


REBEKAH.  55 

more  beautiful  for  her  sadness,  she  mounted 
the  kneeling  camel,  and  accompanied  by  the 
nurse  of  her  infancy,  and  the  retinue  that 
came  to  escort  her,  moved  silently  from 
the  city  of  her  fathers.  And  how  often 
with  swimming  eye,  she  turned  to  gaze  on 
the  receding  valley,  upon  whose  peaceful 
breast,  like  a  white  speck,  lay  the  beloved 
city.  But  a  new  world  soon  spread  around 
the  fair  traveller.  Sometimes  wild  sum- 
mits cast  their  shadows  upon  her  way ; 
then  from  a  hill-top  she  looked  off  upon 
luxuriant  plains,  with  their  isles  of  foliage 
dallying  with  the  passing  wind,  and  a 
horizon  of  mountains  pencilled  on  the  haze 
of  the  dreamy  sky.  And  there  were  hours 
when  her  thoughts  wandered  from  all  these, 
and  brooded  with  painful  intensity  upon  her 
unfolding  destiny. 

It  was  eventide  of  such  a  day  as  dawns 
on  Palestine,  when  Eebekah   saw  in  the 


56  REBEKAH. 

distance,  a  man  in  meditative  mood,  walk- 
ing in  the  fields.  With  that  presentiment 
which  seemed  often  almost  prophetic  when 
near  an  expected  event,  and  probably  aided 
by  the  indication  of  devotional  spirit,  she 
suspected  him  to  be  Isaac,  and  alighted  from 
her  camel.  Eliezer  confirmed  her  suspi- 
cions, and  veiling  herself,  she  modestly 
awaited  his  approach.  He  was  a  stranger, 
and  might  not  fall  in  with  her  guide's  admi- 
ration— or  there  might  be  something  in  him 
repulsive  to  her  own  taste. 

While  these  conflicting  emotions  were 
passing,  Eliezer  had  informed  Isaac  of  his 
travels,  the  interview  with  Rebekah  at  the 
well,  the  objections  he  overruled  in  obtain- 

•<C'' 

ing  consent  of  her  relatives,  and  the  sad 
farewells  that  still  haunted  his  memory. 
Isaac  felt  that  the  Almighty,  whose  voice 
he  heard  when  on  the  altar  of  Moriah,  had 
brought  him  a  wife,  he  could  love  for  her 


REBEKAH.  57 

own  sake,  and  lie  took  her  joyfully  to  his 
tent.  It  was  the  very  place  where  Sarah 
died,  and  he  had  mourned  deeply  for  his 
sainted  mother.  Rebekah  came  to  his  soli- 
tude, like  an  angel  of  consolation,  and  his 
pensive  home  was  lighted  with  a  smile  of 
returning  hope.  Time  passed  on;  and  with 
all  his  riches,  there  were  hours  of  sadness 
in  that  home,  because  no  children  were 
given  him.  He  prayed  earnestly  for  the 
covenant  blessing,  and  Rebekah  bore  him 
twins,  who  were  named  Esau  and  Jacob—- 
the beginning  of  sorrows  to  her,  and  of 
suffering  to  them  all,  till  they  slept  in  death. 
The  sous  grew  to  manhood — Esau,  the 
inheiitor  of  the  birthright,  was  a  sports 
man,  and  a  passionate  man,  but  the  favorite 
of  Isaac  because  he  gratified  his  father's 
fondness  for  venison ;  Jacob,  a  quiet  shep- 
herd, became  the  idol  of  his  mother; — a 
parental  partiality,  which  resulted  at  length 

3* 


58  REBEKAH. 

in  the  overthrow  of  Esau,  Avhile  his  brother 
rose  upon  his  ruin. 

Driven  by  famine  like  Abraham  before 
him,  to  seek  bread  at  a  foreign  court,  the 
patriarch  went  to  Gerar.  Apprehensive 
of  assassination  on  account  of  Rebekah's 
beauty,  he  also  was  guilty  of  the  cowardly 
act  of  dissembling,  in  which  she  was  ac- 
cessory. She  told  the  admiring  princes 
that  Isaac  was  a  brother.  Abimelech  the 
king  discovered  the  deception  accidentally 
and  bitterly  reproved  the  stranger.  It  is 
somewrhat  remarkable,  that  the  grand  trio 
of  prinrtil  patriarchs,  married  handsome 
women ;  who,  notwithstanding  their  exalted 
character  and  fidelity,  cost  two  of  them 
days  of  gloomy  fear,  and  crime  that  left 
ever  after  burning  on  the  conscience,  the 
living  coals  of  remorse. 

Isaac  now  reached  his  dotage ;  feeble  and 
blind,  he  knew  death  was  near.  He  called 


REBEKAH.  59 

Esau,  and  told  him  as  he  might  die  sud- 
denly, to  get  him  venison  and  prepare  for  the 
solemn  occasion  of  receiving  his  parting  bles- 
sing, which  should  secure  the  privileges  and 
pre-eminence  of  the  first-born.  The  hunter 
went  into  the  fields ;  and  Rebekah,  recol- 
lecting that  Jacob  had  purchased  the  birth- 
right of  his  brother  for  a  mess  of  pottage^ 
one  day  when  he  came  in  from  the  chase 
faint  with  hunger  and  exhaustion,  deter- 
mined by  a  stroke  of  management  to  seal 
with  the  patriarchal  benediction,  that  trans- 
fer of  the  unappreciated  distinction  by  Esau, 
who  was  disinclined  manifestly,  to  a  reli- 
gious life. 

She  sent  him  to  the  flocks  after  two  kids, 
which  were  prepared  with  the  savory  deli- 
cacy his  father  loved,  and  assuming  the 
responsibility  of  any  anathema  that  might 
follow,  she  -dressed  him.  up  in  Esau's  ap- 
parel, covering  his  hands  and  neck  to  imi- 


60  REBEKAH. 

tate  the  hairiness  of  the  rightful  heir,  and 
sent  him  to  the  bedside  of  the  dying  Isaac. 
When  the  patriarch  inquired  who  he  was, 
he  replied,  "I  am  Esau,  thy  first-born." 
This  was  passing  belief,  because  even  the 
skilful  hunter,  could  scarcely  without  a 
miracle  so  .soon  bring  in  the  game,  and 
dress  it  for  his  table.  Jacob  was  called  to 
his  side,  and  he  felt  of  his  hands ;  the  dis- 
guise completed  the  delusion,  although  his 
voice  had  the  milder  tone  of  the  young 
shepherd,  to  that  father's  ear.  He  repeated 
the  interrogation  concerning  his  name,  then 
embracing  him,  pronounced  in  a  strain  of 
true  poetry,  the  perpetual  blessing  of  Jeho- 
vah's favor  upon  his  undertakings,  and  his 
posterity.  The  stratagem  had  succeeded, 
and  Jacob  hastened  to  inform  his  mother  of 
the  victory,  just  as  Esau  returned.  When 
Isaac  discovered  the  mistake,  he  trembled 
with  excitement,  while  his  son  cried  in  an- 


REBEKAH.  61 

guisli,  "  Bless  even  me  also,  O  rny  father !" 
That  cry  pierced  the  breaking  heart  of  the 
aged  man,  but  it  was  a  fruitless  lament. 
He  was  inflexible,  and  Esau  wept  aloud 
over  his  blasted  hopes;  plotting  at  the 
same  time,  in  his  awakened  enmity,  the 
murder  of  Jacob.  Rebekah  was  alarmed 
at  his  fury,  and  sent  "  the  supplanter,"  to 
her  kindred  in  Haran  of  Mesopotamia. 

Her  tent  was  now  a  spot  of  deepening 
gloom ;  there  were  hours  of  mournful  medi- 
tation in  the  apartment  of  approaching  dis- 
solution, and  of  weeping  in  the  solitude  of 
the  noble  yet  erring  mother.  Though 
strangely  fallen  from  her  youthful  purity, 
she  exhibited  decided  religious  principle  in 
her  grief,  when  Esau  to  obtain  revenge  for 
her  neglect  of  his  boyhood,  married  an  idol- 
ater. Accumulating  troubles,  made  her 
weary  of  life,  but  where  or  when  she  died, 
the  sacred  historian  has  not  given  the  slight- 


62  REBEKAH. 

est  intimation.  There  is  something  signifi- 
cant in  the  fact,  which  justifies  the  inference, 
that  her  departure  was  a  dreary  one — cheer- 
ed only  by  penitential  trust  in  the  Lord.  It 
may  be  that  she  was  glad  to  leave  a  path- 
way on  which  the  morning  of  her  existence 
shed  a  heavenly  radiance,  but  which,  strew- 
ed with  the  sere  leaves  of  blighted  inno- 
cence and  hope,  met  the  grave  o'erclouded 
with  sorrow,  and  wet  with  tears. 

As  a  maiden,  Rebekah  was  a  model,  an 
acknowledged  beauty,  and  amiable  in  all 
the  relations  of  life.  She  was  a  devoted 
wife,  and  only  when  corrupted  by  favorit- 
ism towards  Jacob,  and  the  example  of 
Isaac  in  falsehood,  did  her  character  as  a 
mother  pass  under  eclipse.  The  crowning 
act  of  her  guilty  fondness  and  ambition, 
was  presumption.  Because  God  had  made 
known  his  purpose  to  reverse  the  rule  of 
primogeniture  in  her  family,  she  determined 


REBEKAH.  63 

in  her  own  way  to  cany  out  the  design. 
This  one  object  took  possession  of  her  mind, 
until  like  a  kind  of  madness,  it  urged  her 
onward  to  crimes  that  made  existence  a 
burden,  and  which  invested  with  a  pain- 
ful uncertainty  her  abode  in  the  world  to 
come. 


A  CENTUEY  after  tlie  matrimonial  embas- 
sy from  Palestine  halted  at  nightfall  before 
the  city  of  Nahor,  a  solitary  fugitive  soon 
after  noon  of  a  sultry  day,  dusty  and  worn 
with  travel,  joined  a  group  of  shepherds, 
who  waited  with  their  flocks  beside  a  well 
in  the  same  valley  of  Haran.  He  fled  from 
an  angry  brother,  and  had  wandered  for 
weeks  among  the  hills,  cheered  at  night 
while  reposing  on  the  ground,  with  the 


66  RACHEL. 

glories  of  Heaven  whose  gates  were  thrown 
wide  open  above  him.  The  angels  upon  a 
stair-way  of  light,  caine  in  throngs  from  the 
celestial  plains,  fanning  his  throbbing  brow 
with  their  wings,  and  chasing  from  his  spirit 
sad  thoughts  with  the  ravishing  melody 
of  their  sinless  abode.  On  a  throne  such 
as  was  never  piled  for  human  sovereignty, 
he  beheld  the  Almighty  enrobed  with  splen- 
dors that  put  out  the  stars,  and  heard  the 
accents  of  sympathy  and  promise  from  his 
lips. 

Thus  sustained  in  his  banishment,  and 
bound  by  an  oath  made  at  the  bedside  of 
his  dying  father,  to  marry  among  his  kin- 
dred of  Mesopotamia,  Jacob  rested,  a 
friendless  exile,  by  the  fountain  where  the 
camels  of  the  servant  Eliezer  knelt  laden 
with  precious  gifts.  It  was  a  strange  con- 
trast in  life,  especially  when  equal  honor 
was  the  inheritance.  The  lesson  taught 


RACHEL.  67 

then,  as  now,  was  the  unerring  providence 
of  God  amid  the  mutations  of  time,  and  the 
folly  of  desponding  when  a  cloud  blackens 
on  the  horizon  of  the  future. 

The  traveller  inquired  after  the  health  of 
Laban.  The  Chaldeans  answered  his  in 
quiries,  and  pointing  to  a  beautiful  shep- 
herdess coming  with  her  flock,  told  him 
there  was  Rachel  his  daughter.  With  that 
courtesy  which  springs  from  magnanimity 
of  spirit  and  needs  only  the  culture  of  op- 
portunity to  develop  itself,  Jacob  hastened 
to  the  well,  rolled  away  the  stone,  and 
watered  her  sheep.  The  intelligence  he 
had  received,  stirred  the  depths  of  his  spirit, 
as  the  storm  moves  the  sea,  for  in  all  his 
wanderings  he  met  with  no  familiar  face, 
nor  heard  one  accent  of  affection.  Saluting 
his  fair  cousin  with  a  kiss,  he  lifted  up  his 
voice  and  wept.  The  recollections  of  home, 
the  present  joyful  surprise,  and  visions  of 


68  RACHEL. 

the  future,  swept  like  a  rushing  tide  over 
his  sad  heart.  When  the  agitation  subsided 
and  he  could  command  utterance,  he  dis- 
closed his  relationship,  by  tenderly  alluding 
to  his  mother,  Laban's  only  sister,  with 
whom  he  parted  while  the  bloom  of  girlhood 
was  yet  upon  her  cheek.  Breathless  with 
excitement  and  delight,  she  flew  to  her 
father  with  the  tidings.  He  welcomed  the 
young  man  to  his  dwelling,  and  invited  him 
to  become  a  resident  in  Haran,  offering  as 
an  inducement  to  pay  him  his  own  price 
for  labor. 

Jacob  was  smitten  with  Rachel's  beauty, 
and  the  sweetness  of  her  temper,  and  imme- 
diately consented  on  condition  that  he  might 
marry  her  as  the  reward  of  seven  years,  toil. 
The  days  went  by  on  rainbow  wing,  and 
the  time  of  service  vanished  like  a  dream. 
When  he  came  in  at  evening,  her  beaming 
eye  was  upon  him — and  often  till  "  the  noon 


RACHEL.  69 

of  night"  the  hours  were  passed  in  con- 
panionship  unsullied  by  suspicion,  while 
they  talked  of  their  love,  the  strange  vicis- 
situdes of  their  kindred,  and  the  bright 
displays  of  Jehovah's  regard.  Jacob  was  a 
true-hearted  and  godly  man.  He  once  yield- 
ed to  temptation  presented  by  a  mother,  and 
was  guilty  of  duplicity  that  cost  him  his 
self-respect,  and  made  him  despise  her ;  but 
ever  after  exhibited  a  lofty  integrity  both 
as  a  citizen  and  a  devout  patriarch. 

At  length  he  claimed  his  bride.  The 
marriage  festival  was  magnificent,  and  the 
exile  of  Canaan  the  central  object  of  its  gay 
assemblage.  The  evening  waned,  the  lamps 
burned  dimly,  and  music  died  away  as  with 
very  weariness,  when  the  parting  salutations 
were  exchanged  around  the  wedded  twain. 
But  by  an  act  of  basest  deception,  Laban 
compelled  Jacob  to  take  Leah,  an  older 
daughter,  for  his  wife,  because  customary  to 


70  RACHEL. 

give  the  eldest  first  in  marriage.  So  strong 
was  his  affection  for  Rachel,  he  suppressed 
his  indignation  and  engaged  to  work  another 
seven  years  for  her.  In  condemning  this 
unnatural  polygamy,  two  things  are  to  be 
considered ;  the  fraud  of  the  father  in  with- 
holding the  first  choice,  and  the  absence  of 
any  established  principles  of  civil  or  relig- 
ious polity.  There  is  a  tendency  in  the  mind 
to  bring  those  ancient  worthies  for  judg- 
ment, from  the  twilight  of  their  dispensation 
to  the  foot  of  Sinai,  and  even  to  the  Cross 
of  Messiah,  where  we  sit  in  the  blaze  of  the 
gospel's  noontide,  and  learn  the  precepts  of 
immaculate  widom. 

Rachel,  though  evidently  less  amiable 
than  Leah,  reigned  in  the  affections  of 
Jacob.  When  her  envy  and  impatience 
because  her  sister  bare  sons  and  she  was 
childless,  found  expression  in  reproach  of 
her  husband,  and  a  wish  to  die  if  longer 


RACHEL.  71 

unblest,  his  anger  called  forth  but  a  inild 
rebuke. 

Twenty  years  passed  by,  and  Jacob,  a 
wealthy  patriarch,  departed  from  Haran 
as  he  came,  a  fugitive  from  kindred.  And  as 
before  in  his  flight,  nightly  repose  brought 
visions  of  paradise,  and  the  voice  of  God. 
He  was  overtaken  by  his  pursuers,  and 
accused  among  other  things  of  stealing  La- 
ban's  teraphim.  From  some  unknown  mo- 
tive, Kachel  had  carried  away  these  house- 
hold gods,  and  dissembled,  to  conceal  the 
fact.  But  the  blemishes  on  her  character, 
when  the  attention  and  flattery  her  beauty 
received  are  taken  into  the  account,  are 
faint  and  few.  She  was  a  splendid  woman, 
beloved  in  all  the  relations  of  domestic  and 
social  life. 

At  the  ford  of  Jabbok,  when  Jacob  was 
about  to  encounter  the  embittered  Esau 
with  his  host,  he  placed  in  the  rear  of  his 


72  RACHEL. 

own  caravan,  Rachel  and  the  stripling  Jo- 
seph, her  youngest  boy,  to  have  them  the 
least  exposed  if  an  attack  were  made. — 
How  remote  the  thought,  when  she  led  the 
lad  to  the  margin  of  the  stream,  that  his 
infant  hand  would  in  after  years,  hold  the 
key  of  a  monarch's  treasury,  wanting  only 
a  sceptre  to  be  Sovereign  of  the  proudest 
realm  on  earth,  rescuing  from  famine  Israel 
and  his  household,  to  prevent  the  failure  of 
a  single  promise  concerning  the  chosen  of 
the  Lord. 

Not  far  from  Bethel,  Rachel  gave  birth  to 
another  son — and  her  own  life  was  the  price 
of  this  last-born.  Having  escaped  the  rage 
of  enemies,  and  the  perils  of  a  wearisome 
march,  just  entering  into  the  very  bosom  of 
Canaan,  Rachel  must  be  laid  in  the  grave. 
She  was  conscious  of  her  hastening  dissolu- 

o 

tion,  and  murmured  Benoni — the  -son  of  my 
sorrmv.  Then  with  a  blessing,  she  bade 


RACHEL.  73 

Jacob  and  her  noble  sons  farewell,  looked 
up  trustingly  to  the  sky  bending  brightly 
above  her,  and  "fell  asleep.".  Her  last 
gaze  was  towards  the  hills  around  Bethle- 
hem, which  were  flooded  with  the  light  of 
the  star  in  the  East,  and  echoed  back  to  the 
"  Mount  of  God"  the  chorus  of  angels,  when 
"  He  who  should  redeem  Israel"  was  cradled 
in  a  manger !  They  buried  her  there,  and 
Jacob  erected  a  memorial  of  stone,  which 
survived  the  lapse  of  centuries,  and  was 
cherished  as  the  monument  of  beauty  and 
worth  by  his  descendants,  till  it  crumbled 
to  dust. 

We  need  no  further  illustration  of  her 
elevated  character  than  those  testimonials, 
or  of  her  intellectual  force  and  piety  than  the 
faultless  and  kingly  Joseph — the  full-length 
portrait  of  a  pure  and  brilliant  man,  which 
in  the  distance  and  dimness  of  antiquity,  is 


74  RACHEL. 


yet  distinct  and  beautiful,  beneath  the  ra- 
diance that  falls  from  the  Eternal  city  of  the 
better  Canaan,  into  which  he  entered. 


DESTINY,  in  tlie  history  of  an  individual 
and  a  nation,  often  turns  on  apparently  an 
unimportant  event.  We  have  in  Revela- 
tion impressive  illustrations  of  this  truth ; 
as  if  God,  by  poising  his  own  stupendous 
plans  on  the  common  occurrences  of  life, 
would  teach  man  his  particular  providence, 
and  the  solemnity  of  action  on  the  stage  of 
probation,  where  the  very  echo  of  his  foot- 
steps will  be  heard  forever. 


76  MIRIAM. 

The  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  and  the  great- 
ness and  glory  of  the  Hebrew  nation,  were 
all  involved  in  the  preservation  of  a  single 
man-child  among  thousands  with  whom  it 
was  doomed  to  a  violent  death.  For  three 
months  parental  love  had  eluded  the  edict 
of  the  tyrant  who  "  knew  not  Joseph,"  till 
concealment  was  no  longer  an  experiment 
of  hope.  The  beautiful  child  was  enclosed 
in  a  bark  of  rushes,  and  committed  to  the 
bosom  of  the  Mle.  Miriam,  an  only  sis- 
ter, was  sent  to  watch  the  frail  vessel, 
while  it  floated  down  the  lazy  current,  the 
plaything  of  every  ripple, 

"  And  every  breath  of  air  that  chanced  to  blow." 

It  was  to  avoid  suspicion  that  Jochebed  re- 
mained at  home,  to  indulge  a  mother's  grief, 
and  lift  to  Israel's  God  a  mother's  prayer. 
And  Miriam,  a  summer  day  rambler  among 
the  flags  by  the  river's  margin,  or  fragrant 


MIRIAM.  77 

wild  flowers  beneath  the  branching  palm,, 
would  not  arrest  the  eye  of  the  passing 
Egyptian.  How  strangely  the  bloom  of 
girlhood  upon  her  cheek  contrasted  with 
the  tear-drops  trembling  on  the  long  lashes, 
which  almost  veiled  the  glance  following 
ever  the  boat  of  that  young  dreamer.  An 
oriental  sky  bends  brightly  above  her,  and 
the  waters  sparkle  as  if  in  very  gladness, 
around  the  boy— 

'•  The  whispering  reeds  are  all  he  hears, 
The  Nile's  soft  weltering  nigh 
Sings  him  to  sleep ;" — 

but  her  heart  beats  audibly,  and  dark 
thoughts  of  man  and  of  life  are  chasing  away 
a  thousand  glowing  visions  of  the  future. 

The  day  wore  on,  the  sun  bathed  his 
burning  forehead  in  the  Mediterranean  sea, 
and  threw  the  glory  of  his  farewell  upon 
the  hills  that  border  on  the  fruitful  valley, 
whose  soil  was  wet  with  the  blood  of  her 


78  MIRIAM. 

countrymen.  She  heard  the  murmur  of 
voices,  and  the  sound  of  coming  footsteps 
startling  her  from  a  mournful  reverie.  Pale 
with  fear,  she  stood  like  the  hunted  fawn 
in  his  glade,  panting  before  his  pursuers. 
The  little  Levite,  perhaps,  was  slumbering 
his  last,  and  would  be  an  evening  sacrifice 
at  the  hand  of  the  hastening  executioner. 

When  she  saw  the  form  of  the  king's 
daughter  followed  by  her  maidens,  hope 
stilled  her  fluttering  heart.  The  princess 
raiglit  take  her  bath  without  observing  the 
barge  of  bulrushes — if  she  did  make  the 
discovery,  woman's  heart  was  moved  by 
an  infant's  smile,  and  touched  by  its  cry. 

The  tiny  ark  was  seen,  and  brought  to 
the  bank.  The  babe  opened  his  blue  eye 
on  the  wondering  women  and  wept,  for 
among  them  all  no  maternal  arms  were  ex- 
tended in  welcome,  nor  familiar  voice  fell 
on  the  ear  of  the  Hebrew's  son. 


MIRIAM.  79 

But  lie  had  won  the  royal  sympathy; 
Miriam  knew  he  was  safe,  and  asked  per- 
mission to  find  a  nurse.  With  joy  that 
spoke  in  every  lineament  of  her  face,  and 
the  fleetness  of  her  arrow-like  step,  she  re- 
turned to  the  dwelling  she  left  in  sorrow, 
and  Jochebed  soon  clasped  the  child  to  her 
heaving  breast,  naming  him  Moses — drawn 
from  the  water.  Pharaoh's  daughter  bade 
her  train  him  for  her  father's  palace,  and 
bring  him  there  when  he  reached  his  boy- 
hood. 

Miriam  rose  to  womanhood  with  a  tone 
of  masculine  beauty,  and  Moses,  a  manly 
youth,  took  an  honorable  position  in  the 
court  of  Pharaoh.  The  influences  of  home 
were  inwrought  with  all  his  sympathies, 
and  he  looked  with  deepest  scorn  upon  a 
despot's  favor  and  a  splendid  career,  while 
the  groans  of  his  oppressed  people  were 
filling  the  heavens.  Possessing  the  traits 


80  MIRIAM. 

of  a  hero  in  the  highest  degree,  Jehovah  by 
a  visible  manifestation  appointed  him  chief- 
tain, to  strike  for  the  deliverance  of  his 
nation. 

He  stood  with  Aaron  before  the  haughty 
monarch,  cheered  doubtless  by  the  remem- 
bered words  of  Miriam  who  had  felt  the 
bitterness  of  oppression,  and  a  mother's 
blessing,  and  boldly  announced  the  com- 
mand of  God  to  let  Israel  go.  Pharaoh 
poured  contempt  on  the  message  and  Him 
who  sent  it.  Moses  lifted  up  his  rod,  and 
the  Nile  on  which  he  floated  in  helpless 
infancy,  with  every  streamlet  and  pool,  was 
turned  into  blood !  But  the  king  wTas  un- 
moved when  his  fears  were  gone.  Fire 
and  hail  descended  in  a  tempest,  and  ran 
in  torrents  upon  the  blackening  plains. 
Darkness  deeper  than  broods  on  mornless 
chaos  blotted  out  the  stars,  and  quenched 
the  flame  of  his  brightest  lamps — but  not 


MIRIAM.  81 

until  the  first-born  of  every  Egyptian  house- 
hold in  his  realm  lay  a  stiffened  corpse,  as 
a  fearful  atonement  for  the  innocents  he  had 
slain,  did  he  consent  to  the  departure  of  his 
God-protected  slaves. 

They  reached  the  sea,  which  spread  its 
waste  of  billows  between  them  and  Ca- 
naan. Again  the  mysterious  rod  was 
raised  over  the  waters,  and  they  rolled  up 
like  mighty  scrolls  on  each  hand,  and  stood 
in  walls  of  crystal  beside  their  paved  and 
ample  path.  The  grand  procession,  with 
flying  banners  and  silent  march,  t  wound 
like  a  vast  Hydra  through  that  parted  deep. 
Just  as  Moses  went  up  the  opposing  bank, 
Pharaoh's  pursuing  host,  with  exultant 
shouts  and  the  noise  of  numberless  chariot 
wheels,  poured  into  the  gorge  of  uplifted 
waves.  He  stretched  out  the  rod  once 
more  towards  his  foes,  and  with  the  crash  of 

a  thousand  besieged  and  falling  towers,  the 
4* 


82  MIRIAM. 

billowy  mountains  fell  on  that  rushing  ar- 
my. Banner  and  plume — the  horse  and  his 
rider — weapons  of  war  and  shivered  char- 
iots, were  mingled  in  a  common  wreck,  and 
the  requiem  was  the  shrieks  and  curses  of 
dying  men,  and  the  roar  of  foam-wreathed 
surges.  The  trembling  multitudes  of  Is- 
rael from  their  peaceful  shore  looked  mute- 
ly on,  till  that  mournful  cadence  rose  faint- 
ly on  the  troubled  air. 

"Then  sang  Moses  and  the  children  of 
Israel  unto  the  Lord"  an  anthem  of  un- 
equalled sublimity — and  Miriam,  inspired 
with  prophetic  fire,  "  took  a  timbrel  in  her 
hand ;  and  all  the  women  went  out  after 
her,  with  timbrels  and  with  dances."  She 
threw  in  a  chorus  worthy  the  theme  and 
the  occasion ;  the  wilderness  sent  up  echoes 
which  never  before  stirred  its  solitude,  and 
the  notes  of  rapture  floated  in  a  tide  of 
melody  over  the  solemn  sea,  which  was 


MIRIAM.  83 

now  the  grave  of  an  imperial  army.  That 
song  and  response  were  composed  six  hun- 
dred years  before  the  immortal  Grecian 
swept  his  wondrous  harp  in  his  blindness, 
and  yet  in  grandeur  that  towers  to  the 
Throne  of  God,  and  power  that  thrills  like 
a  trumpet-blast,  it  leaves  the  wandering 
bard  in  the  low  grounds  of  mortal  conflict, 
or  on  the  sunny  mount  of  contending  gods. 
It  is  sad  to  turn  from  that  jubilant  pro- 
cession led  on  by  the  fail*  prophetess,  to  the 
scene  of  her  fall.  The  Israelites  reached 
the  wilderness  of  Zin,  and  encamped  on  its 
extended  plain.  On  each  side  stood  the 
sentinel  mountains,  whose  helmets  of  rock 

rent  the  folds  of  the  summer  cloud  as  it 

• 

passed ;  the  standards  were  unfurled,  and 
the  Tabernacle  set  up.  Miriam  had  seen 
Moses  robed  in  lightning  on  the  smoking 
top  of  Sinai,  and  listened  to  the  message 
from  his  lips  when  his  brow  shone  like  an 


84  MIRIAM. 

augel's — she  had  loved  him  as  a  part  of  her 
own  being  since  her  lonely  vigil  by  the 
river's  side — but  now  ambition  stalked 
through  the  chambers  of  her  soul  like  a 
sceptered  king,  made  the  affections  its  vas- 
sals, and  was  environed  by  the  train  of 
riotous  passions.  Under  the  new  arrange- 
ment adopted  by  Moses  at  the  suggestion 
of  Jethro,  his  father-in-law,  the  power  was 
divided  among  captains,  and  her  authority 
weakened.  Besides,  she  had  marked  with 
jealousy  the  presence  of  Zipporah  the  Ethi- 
opian in  the  camp,  receiving  the  attention 
of  the  great  leader,  and  the  admiration  of 
the  multitude. 

She  went  to  Aaron,  and  "  spoke  against 
Moses."  He  listened  to  the  complaint, 
which  was  an  appeal  to  his  own  wounded 
honor,  and  a  conspiracy  was  matured.  The 
Lawgiver  was  meek  in  his  majesty,  and 
unsullied  by  human  praise  or  earthly  dis- 


MIRIAM.  85 

tinction.  He  met  the  frown  of  the  con- 
spirators with  unshadowed  benignity,  nor 
did  their  reproaches  disturb  the  tranquillity 
of  his  spirit.  One  morning,  a  voice  from 

*  • 

the  opening  heavens  commanded  Moses, 
Aaron  and  Miriam,  to  go  up  to  the  taber- 
nacle of  the  congregation.  Then  amid 
strange  spreadings  of  light,  a  cloud  de- 
scended and  hung  over  that  sanctuary  of 
the  Shekinah  which  was  glowing  with  pur- 
ple and  blue  and  embroidered  with  gold. 
Silence  hung  upon  the  vast  assembly,  while 
the  three  passed  in  wondering  stillness  to 
the  open  court.  Pausing  there,  Moses  stood 
in  the  calmness  of  innocence,  his  noble 
figure  enveloped  in  a  simple  mantle.  Aaron 
was  arrayed  in  his  sacerdotal  robes  flash- 
ing with  jewels  and  fringed  with  golden 
bells.  Between  them  was  the  ambitious 
Miriam,  richly  apparelled,  and  sullen  in  her 
pride  and  awakened  fears. 


86  MIRIAM. 

That  radiant  column  of  cloud  filled  the 
door  of  the  tabernacle,  and  the  Almighty 
spoke  from  its  form  reflecting  the  glory  that 
mantles  His  Throne.  He  called  Aaron 
and  Miriam  into  its  mysterious  folds,  and 
alluding  to  the  evidences  of  the  celestial 
commission  of  their  brother,  and  assuring 
them  that  with  none  other  did  he  talk  as 
friend  with  friend,  inquired  if  they  were 
not  afraid  to  reproach  his  servant. 

Whether  with  a  thunder  peal  or  a  blaze 
of  Omniscience  he  displayed  his  anger,  we 
know  not.  But  he  manifested  his  kindled 
indignation,  and  departed.  The  cloud  rose 
and  vanished  from  the  sight  of  the  gazing 
tribes,  and  Miriam  was  a  leper,  "  white  as 
snow."  Aaron  beheld  her,  and  fell  at  the 
feet  of  Moses,  beseeching  him  to  intercede 
with  God.  Miriam  was  mute,  for  she  was 
a  fallen  woman — a  loathsome  monument 
of  the  wrath  of  Him  whose  vivid  lightning 


MIRIAM.  87 

is  a  passing  shadow  compared  to  his  glance 
when  once  he  is  angry.  She  trembled  and 
wept,  while  the  Lawgiver  prayed  for  mer- 
cy. The  Lord  refused  to  hear  till  the  judg- 
ment had  impressed  the  offender,  and  the 
entire  multitude  with  its  fearful  lesson. 
For  seven  days  she  was  an  exile  from  the 
camp ;  and  in  their  yet  unshaken  regard, 
the  host  waited  uncomplainingly  for  her 
return.  What  days  of  meditation  and  re- 
pentance to  the  erring  Miriam !  Genius 
had  been  to  her  as  beauty  to  the  wives  of 
the  patriarchs,  a  dangerous  gift — and  on  the 
dizzy  eminence  of  Power,  she  forgot  her 
frailty,  and  the  homage  due  to  Jehovah. 

In  the  desert  of  Zin,  Miriam  died.  The 
people  in  all  their  tents  sent  up  the  notes 
of  wailing  for  the  dead,  till  the  dark  defiles 
of  girdling  sunnnits  were  filled  with  the  sol 
emn  echoes,  and  Canaan  itself  seemed  to 
have  vanished  forever  from  the  horizon  of 


88  MIRIAM. 

hope.  The  maiden-prophetess  was  dear  to 
her  Wandering  and  weary  nation.  They 
had  heard  the  story  of  her  watching  with 
breaking  heart  in  her  girlhood  by  the  flow- 
ing Nile — they  had  seen  her  by  the  Red 
Sea,  beneath  the  rolling  mist  of  returning 
billows,  stand  like  a  rejoicing  angel,  and 
strike  her  timbrel  to  the  Lord,  pouring  her 
chorus  of  victory  upon  the  ear  of  solitude, 
and  over  the  deep  grave  of  the  on-rushing 
foe !  They  buried  her  at  the  base  of  a 
lonely  height,  whose  tower  of  granite,  is  a 
fit  memorial  of  her  lofty  genius,  and  singu- 
lar pre-eminence  as  the  first  female  ruler 
and  prophet  mentioned  in  the  sacred  record. 
The  shadow  it  flings  upon  her  grave,  might 
remind  the  beholder  of  the  blemish  that 
darkens  her  memory,  and  its  gilded  top 
pointing  Heavenward  when  evening  has 
shrouded  the  plain,  indicate  the  character 
and  destiny  of  the  illustrious  sleeper ! 


MIRIAM.  89 

Paul  refers  to  the  history  of  Moses  as 
illustrating  the  power  of  faith.  It  was  confi- 
dence in  the  promise  of  God,  that  in  spite  of 
perils  which  made  the  effort  to  save  his  infant 
life  like  waiting  at  the  sepulchre's  mouth, 
committed  him  to  Miriam  and  the  Nile. 
It  was  the  same  trust,  breathed  in  Joche- 
bed's  counsels  and  prayer,  that  cheered 
the  sweet  maiden  while  she  loitered  among 
the  reeds,  and  started  at  the  plunge  of  the 
crocodile  from  his  banquet  of  babes.  It 
was  faith  that  made  her  worthy  to  stand 
with  the  brotherhood  in  the  Red  Sea's 
wave,  and  look  calmly  on  its  up-rolling 
waters.  It  was  faith,  womarfs  faith  trium- 
phant, that  shouted  victory  amid  the  desert's 
gloom  and  the  thunder  of  the  boiling  deep, 
till  the  sound  reached  the  very  top  of 
Heaven.  And  finally,  faith  was  by  her  side 
with  a  convoy  of  angels  and  chariot  of  fire, 
when  the  last  struggle  came  on  in  the  vale 


90  MIRIAM. 

of  Paran — and  she  turned  her  fading  eye  in 
love  on  the  white  tents  of  Israel,  while  the 
recollection  of  her  sin,  which  like  a  dark 
cloud  had  spent  its  wrath  upon  her  shrink- 
ing form  and  retired,  rushed  upon  her  spirit 
from  the  luminous  past. 

So  is  woman's  destiny  identified  with 
that  of  the  church  of  the  Living  God. 
More  than  once  the  ark  of  his  covenant  has 
rested  upon  her  shoulder,  and  she  has  folded 
to  her  bosom  the  whole  interests  of  Zion  in 
peril ;  leaning  as  the  very  "Bride  of  Christ," 
when  all  others  had  fallen,  meekly  yet  heroi- 
cally upon  the  arm  of  her  Beloved. 


BETHEL,  now  called  Beiten  by  the  wan- 
dering descendants  of  disinherited  Ishmael, 
lies  in  a  solitary  valley  among  the  moun- 
tains twelve  miles  north  of  Jerusalem. 

Here  Jacob  rested  on  his  way  to  Padan- 
ararn,  and  while  he  slept  in  sadness  and  wea- 
riness, beneath  the  open  sky,  had  a  bea- 
tific vision  of  the  worshipping  train  that 
fill  the  "Temple  not  made  with  hands." 
When  he  arose  he  poured  the  consecrating 


92  DEBORAH. 

oil,  and  named  the  place  Bethel,  "  the  house 
of  God."  It  was  here  he  buried  Deborah, 
who  had  long  been  an  inmate  of  his  family, 
distinguished  for  her  kindness  and  piety. 
In  this  solitude  the  ark  and  tabernacle  had 
rested  in  sacred  seclusion.  But  it  also  be- 
came the  very  fastness  of  Judean  idolatry, 
and  the  heights  which  had  glowed  with  the 
presence  of  God,  were  darkened  with  the 
shadow  of  temples  to  Ashtaroth  and  Baal. 
The  defiles  which  had  echoed  the  thrilling 
voice  of  the  Eternal  sent  back  the  shouts 
of  licentious  revelry,  and  the  blasphemies  of 
idol-worship. 

Grieving  over  this  desolation  in  Israel, 
and  expostulating  with  her  countrymen, 
there  was  Deborah  the  Prophetess,  Judge 
among  her  people.  According  to  Eastern 
custom  she  pitched  her  tent  in  summer  in 
the  shade  of  a  spreading  palm,  and  gave 
judgment  upon  the  lawless,  uttering  in  their 


DEBORAH.  93 

reluctant  ears  the  gathering  wrath  of  the 
Lord  for  their  guilty  alienation  from  him. 
They  were  crushed  by  the  despotism  of  a 
heathen  invader,  and  their  fruitful  fields 
were  turned  into  a  desert.  With  obla- 
tions they  crowded  the  shrines  that  glittered 
on  every  summit,  while  the  scourge  fell 
more  heavily,  and  the  cry  of  distress  arose 
more  wildly  with  their  increasing  apostasy. 
Deborah  devoutly  trusted  in  God,  and 
knew  that  deliverance  would  follow  re- 
buke. She  remembered  the  flood,  when 
a  lonely  vessel  with  a  single  family  rode 
the  crest  of  the  billows  amid  the  drifting 
dead,  proclaiming  to  the  universe  that  "  the 
Lord's  portion  is  his  people."  She  read  the 
same  sublime  truth,  in  promises  to  the  patri- 
archs and  their  rescue  from  the  vengeance 
of  foes,  and  it  was  felt  in  every  answer  to 
prayer.  Calling  Barak,  commander  of  the 
national  forces,  she  assured  him  the  country 


94  DEBORAH. 

was  ripe  for  insurrection — that  Jehovah 
would  shake  the  throne  of  Jabin,  and  vin- 
dicate his  own  sullied  honor  by  tarnishing 
the  glory  of  an  oppressor,  whose  nine  hun- 
dred chariots  of  iron  and  vast  army,  encom- 
passed them  darkly  as  the  horizon  of  de- 
spair. Barak  was  skeptical,  and  hesitated 
to  assume  the  commission ;  but  told  Debo- 
rah if  she  would  attend  him,  he  would  rally 
his  scattered  bands  and  hazard  the  desperate 
encounter.  Girding  on  his  sword,  with  the 
prophetess  he  entered  his  chariot  and  drove 
with  tempest-speed  along  the  valleys,  sum- 
moning the  tribes  around  the  drooping 
standard  of  Israel.  Jabin  was  reposing 
luxuriously  in  his  palace  by  Lake  Merom 
when  the  news  of  revolt  and  revolution 
reached  his  ear.  He  curled  his  lip  in  scorn, 
and  told  his  brave  General,  Sisera,  to  har- 
ness his  steeds  to  his  scythed  chariots,  and 
as  a  pastime  of  war  ride  over  the  restless 


DEBORAH.  95 

Hebrews  till  the  flame  of  rebellion  was  ex- 
tinguished in  blood.  Barak  with  ten  thou- 
sand men  marched  up  the  side  of  Mount 
Tabor  to  its  fortified  top,  and  watched  their 
coming,  the  thunder  of  whose  myriad  wheels 
shook  that  mountain,  over  whose  stillness 
hovered  the  wings  of  the  Almighty,  and  the 
angel  of  victory  waved  unseen  the  banner 
of  a  celestial  host !  Deborah  looked  off  on 
the  scene,  with  the  eye  of  a  poet  and 
prophet.  On  the  north  lay  the  valleys  and 
mountains  of  Galilee.  Towards  the  south, 
was  the  wide  plain  of  Esdrelon,  guarded 
on  one  hand  by  Mount  Hernion,  and  on  the 
other  by  Gilboa,  Eastward,  Kishon,  "  that 
ancient  river,  Kishon,"  wound  among  the 
hills  to  the  Mediterranean,  whose  waters 
melted  away  into  the  haze  of  the  horizon. 
On  the  west,  slept  in  the  sunlight  the  sea 
of  Genesareth,  and  Jordan  rolled  its  waves. 
Nature  was  peaceful  and  glorious — as 


96  DEBORAH. 

though,  the  sweet  vale  of  Kishon  could 
never  tremble  to  the  tread  of  slaughtering 
armies,  and  its  current  be  turned  by  the 
slain  into  a  torrent  of  blood. 

The  host  of  Sisera  came  pouring  down 
the  defile  into  the  plain,  when  Deborah 
raised  her  shout — "  Up !  Barak !  for  this  is 
the  day  in  which  the  Lord  hath  delivered 
Sisera  into  thy  hand ;  is  not  the  Lord  gone 
out  before  thee  ?  Barak  with  his  ten  thou- 
sand soldiers  then  made  a  descent  to  the 
banks  of  the  river,  where  the  Canaanites, 
numbering  according  to  Josephus  three  hun- 
dred thousand  footmen  and  ten  thousand 
cavalry,  were  drawn  up  in  battle  array. 

JSisera  stood  in  his  chariot  and  surveyed 
his  legions  with  their  flying  banners,  capa- 
risoned steeds,  and  Captains  impatient  for 
the  glory  of  conquest,  and  turned  with  a 
glance  of  haughty  contempt  toward  the 
steady  march  of  his  unequal  foe.  With  a 


DEBORAH.  97 

shout  that  was  heard  along  the  enemy's 
line  like  a  trumpet-call,  Barak's  columns 
dashed  into  the  very  bosom  of  Sisera's 
host,  led  on  Iby  disciplined  horsemen,  and 
Availed  in  by  chariots  of  iron  which  sent 
a  tempest  of  javelins,  and  the  slinger's  hail 
of  death ;  while  swords  clashed  and  gleam- 
ed in  the  resistless  onset  of  the  Hebrew 
battalions.  The  imperial  ranks  were  bro- 
ken, and  reeled  before  the  shock.  Sisera 
rallied  his  hitherto  invincible  forces,  and 
swept  down  upon  the  enemy  like  an  en- 
gulfing tide — and  again  recoiled  before  the 
steady  and  deadly  advance  of  the  undrill- 
ed  army,  Deborah  had  called  into  being, 
like  Rhoderic's  men,  uprising  with  flash- 
ing steel  from  the  brakes  of  the  mountain 
slope.  He  turned  to  flee,  and  the  soldiers 
followed  in  dismay  before  the  devouring 
sword  into  the  current  of  Kishon,  to  pass 
over.  But  the  waters  which  often  rose 

5.. 


98  DEBORAH. 

suddenly  from  the  swollen  streams  of  the 
summits  at  its  source,  overflowed  the  banks, 
and  they  were  borne,  a  shrieking  and  ghast- 
ly throng,  with  horses  and  chariots,  weap- 
ons, and  ensigns  of  battle,  down  beneath 
the  surging  and  crimson  flood.  Deborah 
and  Barak,  like  Moses  and  Miriam,  looked 
on  the  scene,  and  gave  God  the  glory.  Be- 
hold, in  the  distance,  the  fugitive  chieftain 
of  that  Gentile  host!  Barak  pursuing, 
now  catches  a  glimpse  of  his  flying  form  on 
the  crest  of  a  hill,  and  again  he  is  lost  from 
his  straining  sight. 

Heber,  a  descendant  of  Jethro,  had  pitch' 
ed  his  tent  in  the  plain  of  Zaanaim,  and 
maintained  neutrality  during  the  fierce  con- 
test which  restored  the  independence  of  Ju- 
dea.  His  wife  saw  Sisera  coming,  and  with 
a  cheerful  salutation  offered  him  the  refuge 
and  hospitality  of  her  home.  The  terrified 
and  weary  man  turned  in  to  rest  till  the 


DEBORAH.  99 

pursuer  had  passed.  She  spread  over  him 
a  mantle,  and  calmed  his  fears  as  the  shout 
of  the  enemy  came  faintly  to  his  ear,  and  he 
looked  wildly  through  the  parted  curtains 
on  the  path  of  his  flight.  Jael  bade  him 
repose  securely,  and  he  fell  asleep ;  for  the 
struggle  of  that  burning  day  and  escape 
from  the  battle-field,  had  overtasked  his 
frame  and  bewildered  his  thought.  Stealing 
quietly  to  his  pillow,  with  a  single  stroke, 
the  iron  entered  his  throbbing  temples,  and 
fastened  him  to  the  earth.  A  convulsive 
start,  a  look  of  agony,  a  tremor  of  his  manly 
form,  a  gasp  for  life,  and  all  was  over — the 
dew  of  the  sepulchre  was  on  his  brow,  and 
his  long  locks  lay  clammily  round  his  pallid 
features  and  rayless  eye,  which  just  before 
shone  with  heroic  fire  in  the  deepening  con- 
flict. Then  came  Barak  flushed  with  vic- 
tory, and  Jael  met  him.  She  told  him  to  go 
in  and  look  at  the  man  he  was  pursuing ; 


100  DEBORAH. 

and  with  Ms  hand  on  his  sword-hilt,  he  en- 
tered the  tent  to  complete  the  slaughter. 
But  a  woman,  according  to  Deborah's  pre- 
diction, as  a  reproof  for  his  own  timidity, 
has  snatched  the  laurel  from  his  extended 
hand.  Starting  back  from  the  corpse  her 
blow  had  riveted  to  the  ground, with  wound- 
ed pride,  he  gazed  silently  on  his  helpless 
foe.  The  cloud  hung  but  a  moment  upon 
his  noble  spirit ;  he  thanked  God,  applauded 
the  Kenite  for  her  deed,  and  bore  the  body 
in  triumph  to  the  foot  of  Tabor,  where  the 
prophetess  had  beheld  the  scene  of  battle, 
and  waited  his  return. 

Then  sang  Deborah  and  Barak,  a  duet  of 
great  sublimity ;  a  song  through  which  runs 
a  seraphic  ardor — a  holy  panting  of  soul  to 
emulate  in  praise  those  who  pour  their  tide 
of  harmony  into  the  depths  of  eternity ! 
Every  cliff  and  defile  of  Mount  Tabor  echo- 
ed the  melody,  and  the  forest  seemed  to 


DEBORAH.  101 

shake  its  green  leaves  with  joy,  while  the 
anthem  died  away  on  the  bosom  of  distant 
Carmel.  The  multitude  stood  mute  and 
motionless,  as  the  jubilant  strains  rose  like 
the  sky-lark's  song  to  Heaven's  gate,  then 
descended  in  fainter  tones  as  if  a  wail  for 
the  dead,  to  the  bed  of  the  slain. 

Oh !  little  thought  they  then,  that  the 
mountain-top  on  which  they  encamped,  and 
which  now  stood  a  monument  of  mercy 
and  of  wrath,  would,  in  the  lapse  of  ages, 
become  more  luminous  than  day  beneath 
the  opening  sky,  while  Moses  and  Elias  de- 
scended in  their  white  robes  to  commune 
with  the  transfigured  Son  of  God,  whose 
brightness  fell  on  the  astonished  disciples, 
till  they  bowed  and  worshipped  in  fearful 
reverence.  Now  did  they  deem  that  on 
its  consecrated  brow,  a  mighty  Homicide 
would  stand  and  pour  his  troops  upon  the 
same  trampled  plain.  That  when  the  strife 


102  DEBORAH. 

was  over,  and  the  smoke  of  the  battle  gath- 
ered upon  the  still  height  while  dying  groans 
went  sadly  up  its  side,  the  shout  of  blas- 
phemy and  the  riot  of  lust,  would  rent  the 
air  and  fill  with  the  cries  of  fiends  its  hal- 
lowed solitude. 

Deborah  returned  to  the  shade  of  her 
Palm  Tree,  and  Israel  to  the  High  Places, 
and  shivered  the  idols  of  Baal.  Whether 
we  contemplate  this  gifted  woman  listening 
to  the  complaints  of  her  people,  and  utter- 
ing her  decisions  with  the  dignity  and 
authority  of  a  Judge — or  attended  by  Barak 
sounding  through  all  the  coast  the  tocsin  of 
war ;  standing  on  Mount  Tabor,  and  gazing 
unterrified  on  the  living  tide  of  armed  men 
— or  with  the  conqueror  when  the  battle 
was  past,  in  the  utterance  of  purest  poetry 
giving  all  the  glory  to  God,  she  commands 
equally  our  admiration.  This  is  the  second 
heroine  in  Scripture  invested  with  princely 


DEBORAH.  103 

power,  and  gains  in  the  comparison  with 
Miriam.  For  if  she  had  faults,  they  are  un- 
recorded, and  she  stands  before  us  unblem- 
ished by  the  homage  of  a  grateful  nation, 
who,  in  their  devotion,  added  to  her  titles 
that  of  Mother  in  Israel. 

How  impressively  the  scenes  at  which 
we  have  glanced  illustrate  the  fact,  that 
earth  is  a  sphere  of  probation  and  trial,, 
foreshadowing  in  its  retributions,  the  scenes 
of  that  day  when  every  man  will  reap  the 
harvest  he  has  sown.  The  chastisement 
of  the  Hebrews — the  overthrow  of  their 
persecutors  in  turn — the  fall  of  Sisera,  and 
the  affection  Deborah  received  as  a  more 
valued  reward  than  laurels,  for  well-doing 
when  the  popular  taste  was  wholly  against 
her;  are  replete  with  encouragement  and 
warning,  and  point  to  the  decisions  and  the 
doom  of  a  final  adjudication. 


THEEE  is  a  tragical  interest  in  the  brief 
story  of  Jeptha's  Daughter.  It  contains  the 
elements  of  physical,  mental,  and  moral  suf- 
fering, which  have  power  over  the  imagina- 
tion and  the  heart. 

Jeptha  a  Gileadite,  was  an  illegitimate 
son,  and  consequently  subject  to  galling 
insults  and  cold  neglect,  which  strongly 
marked  his  character.  He  became  an  in- 
dependent, impetuous  and  fearless  man, 

5* 


106  JEPTHA'S  DAUGHTER. 

whose  daring  exploits  won  distinction  for 
the  youthful  hero. 

This  enhanced  the  hostility  of  his  breth- 
ren, until  they  banished  him  from  the  an- 
cestral domain,  and  appropriated  to  them- 
selves his  patrimony.  He  fled  to  the  land 
of  Tob,  beyond  the  frontier  of  Israel,  proba- 
bly in  the  borders  of  Arabia,  and  supported 
himself  in  his  solitude,  by  depredations 
upon  the  enemies  of  his  people,  a  career 
not  forbidden  by  the  ethics  of  those  primi- 
tive days.  His  achievements  soon  gathered 
around  him  a  band  of  lawless  men — a  com- 
pany of  brigands  ready  for  the  wildest  on- 
set, or  the  dark  and  patient  vigil 

"  Of  him  who  treasures  up  a  wrong !" 

"  Even  our  different  climate  and  manners 
afford  some  parallel  in  the  Kol)in  Hoods  of 
former  days;  in  the  border  forays,  when 
England  and  Scotland  were  ostensibly  at 


JEPTHA'S  DAUGHTER.  107 

peace  ;  and  in  principle,  however  great  the 
formal  difference — in  the  authorized  and 
popular  piracies  of  Drake,  Raleigh,  and  the 
other  moral  heroes  of  the  Elizabethan  era." 
Jair,  the  judge  in  Israel  at  the  time  of 
Jeptha's  expulsion,  died,  and  the  Hebrews, 
yielding  to  that  strange  tendency  of  the  hu- 
man soul  toward  idolatry,  because  in  his 
absolute  personality  Jehovah  is  invisible, 
introduced  the  forms  of  image-worship 
which  met  their  observation  in  all  their  in- 
tercourse with  the  tribes  that  hung  mena- 
cingly upon  their  boundaries.  The  loss  of 
influence  and  dignity,  disloyalty  to  God 
carried  along  with  it,  besides  the  withdraw- 
ment  of  his  protection,  invited  the  hordes 
of  idolaters  to  conquest — and  like  the  north- 
men  who  poured  resistlessly  upon  the  plains 
of  degenerate  Italy,  the  Amorites  on  one 
side,  and  the  Philistines  upon  the  other, 
overswept  the  land. 


108  JEPTHA'S   DAUGHTER. 

Then  the  Jewish  Elders  turned  to  Jep- 
tha,  whose  prowess  alone  could  rally  his 
inefficient  and  suffering  countrymen.  His 
reply  to  the  delegation  who  found  him  in 
his  fastness  among  the  desolate  hills  exhib- 
its the  spirited  independence  of  the  fugitive. 
"  Did  not  ye  hate  me,  and  expel  me  from 
my  father's  house  ?  and  why  are  ye  come 
to  me  now,  when  ye  are  in  distress  ?"  They 
conciliated  the  chief  by  offering  him  the 
generalship  of  the  army.  He  accepted  on 
condition  as  security  against  permitting 
again  his  banishment,  while  he  was  also 
conscious  of  his  ability  to  govern,  that  if 
victorious,  he  should  be  made  Judge  in  Is- 
rael. That  he  was  not  an  unprincipled 
bandit,  is  evident  from  his  tactics  in  the 
projected  war.  He  personally  demanded 
of  his  foes  the  ground  of  their  invasion ;  and 
when  they  asserted  their  original  claim,  he 
laid  down  an  acknowledged  principle  in  the 


JEPTHA'S  DAUGHTER.  109 

law  of  nations,  that  the  actual  possessors  of 
the  land  when  taken  by  the  Israelites,  con- 
ferred a  full  and  unquestionable  title. 

The  negotiation  closed,  and  the  opposing 
armies  prepared  for  battle.  Then  appeared 
the  religious  element  in  the  character  of  Jep- 
tha,  however  obscured  before,  hi  a  solemn 
vow,  altogether  rashly  spoken.  He  pledged 
to  the  Lord,  if  he  would  overthrow  the 
legions  of  Amorites  and  allow  him  to  re- 
turn a  conqueror  peacefully  to  his  dwel- 
ling, the  first  living  form  he  met  as  a  burnt- 
offering  upon  the  altar  of  thanksgiving. 
It  strikes  one,  from  the  fact  his  home  was 
cheered  by  a  loving  and  only  daughter,  he 
must  have  apprehended  the  possibility  of 
her  welcome  upon  his  triumphant  return — 
but  in  the  brilliant  prospects  before  him 
and  his  bleeding  country,  with  the  weight  of 
responsibility  so  unexpectingly  assumed,  his 
enthusiasm  and  the  doubtful  struggle  before 


110  JEPTHA'S   DAUGHTER. 

Mm,  absorbed  all  considerations  of  personal 
sacrifice,  and  gave  no  time  for  deliberation. 

Girded  with  his  tried  sword,  he  led  his 
army  from  the  declivities,  across  Jordan 
where  the  enemy  blackened  the  plain,  and 
sent  out  their  loud  challenge  to  conflict. 
The  might  of  the  Lord  came  upon  him,  as 
on  Barak  the  son  of  Abinoam,  and  he  dash- 
ed like  a  falling  bolt  into  the  ranks  of  gleam- 
ing spears  and  waiting  blades.  They  closed 
around  Jeptha's  bands,  then  reeled  and  ral- 
lied, and  again  fell  back  as  a  forest  before  the 
hurricane,  till  the  rout  was  complete.  But 
Jeptha  followed  up  the  victory  till  twenty 
cities  capitulated,  and  his  weary  soldiers 
refreshed  themselves  in  the  valley  of  vine- 
yards, whose  soil  was  reddened  by  the  life- 
blood  that  flowed  in  the  trenches,  with  trod- 
den clusters  from  the  overshadowing  vine. 

Then  followed  the  trial  and  the  offering. 
With  a  guard  of  his  grateful  warriors  he 


JEPTHA'S  DAUGHTER  111 

marched  towards  Mizpeh — and  "Behold, 
his  daughter  came  forth  to  meet  him  with 
timbrels  and  with  dances ;  and  she  was  Jiis 
only  child? 

In  his  wanderings  and  loneliness,  she  had 
been  true,  and  lived  in  the  smile  that  played 
upon  his  stern  features  when  by  his  side, 
and  had  wept  when  sadness  subdued  the 
wonted  brightness  of  his  flashing  eye.  He 
had  thrown  around  her  from  his  strong  arms 
in  the  affection  of  a  great  yet  wounded  heart, 
and  twined  in  musing  fondness  her  ring- 
lets around  the  hand  that  foemen  feared. 
And  now  more  beautiful  than  ever,  in  the 
fine  excitement  of  filial  rapture,  with  a 
train  of  damsels  who  had  gathered  at  the 
tidings  of  conquest  to  celebrate  the  splendid 
career  of  her  father,  she  approaches  him 
with  a  salutation  in  which  was  poured  a 
tide  of  joy  that  spoke  through  every  linea- 
ment of  her  lovely  face.  The  fear  that  had 


112  JEPTHA'S   DAUGHTER. 

made  his  brain  reel  at  times  along  the  way, 
was  merged  in  the  crushing  certainty  of  a 
terrible  reality.  Rending  his  robes,  he  cried, 
"Alas !  my  daughter — for  I  have  opened  my 
mouth  unto  the  Lord  and  I  cannot  go  back." 
When  the  rush  of  new  emotion  that  met 
the  subsiding  swell  of  gratulation,  as  the 
gloomy  surges  of  a  sudden  tempest  chase 
the  sunlit-billows,  was  passed,  and  a  mourn- 
ful calmness  succeeded,  she  stood  there  a 
touching  monument  of  early  piety  and  dis- 
interested love,  neither  romance  nor  the 
pages  of  profane  history  can  furnish.  Then 
she  said,  "  My  father,  if  thou  hast  opened 
thy  mouth  unto  the  Lord,  do  to  me  accord- 
ing to  that  which  has  proceeded  out  of 
thy  mouth ;  forasmuch  as  the  Lord  has  ta- 
ken vengeance  for  thee  of  thine  enemies,  the 
children  of  Ammon."  Then  pausing,  while 
he  was  mute  in  the  dread  paralysis  of  grief 
and  remorse,  she  asked  the  delay  of  two 


JEPTHA'S   DAUGHTER.  113 

months  in  the  execution  of  his  vow,  while 
attended  by  her  companions,  she  went  forth 
upon  the  solitary  mountains  to  bewail  her 
virginity. 

There  the  doomed  maiden  wandered  like 
the  very  spirit  of  solitude,  beamed  a  sky  that 
seemed  to  mock  her  destiny  with  its  cloud- 
less glow,  and  reposed  at  night  while  the 
changeless  stars  beamed  brightly,  as  when 
she  strayed  blithely  there,  with  the  exiled 
Jeptha.  The  months  vanished,  and  she  re- 
turned with  uncomplaining  fidelity  to  yield 
her  life  upon  the  sacrificial  altar.* 

Curiosity  is  left  to  conjecture  in  regard 
to  the  particulars  of  that  last  parting  of 
Jeptha  and  his  daughter — his  fruitless  la- 
ment while  she  hung  upon  his  neck,  and 


*  When  the  circumstances  and  evidences  are  carefully  con- 
sidered, the  opinion  that  she  was  sacrificed  "  according  to  his 
vow"  rests  on  the  strongest  probability,  nor  would,  it  is  be- 
lieved, be  questioned,  were  it  not  for  the  tearful  result  it  in- 
volvea. 


114  JEPTHA'S   DAUGHTER. 

her  soothing  accents  of  cheerful  resignation. 
And  when  she  lay  in  robes  of  virgin  purity 
upon  the  altar,  and  closed  her  mild  eye, 
while  the  high-priest  lifted  his  burnished 
blade,  what  an  illustration  of  the  authority 
of  conscience,  that  brought  her  there,  and 
which  echoes  unceasingly  when  unpervert- 
ed,  the  claims  of  immutable  right.  It  has 
a  whisper  more  awakening  than  the  trum- 
pet-blast— and  a  power  that  invests  a  man 
with  the  majesty  of  an  angel,  or  the  dark 
sublimity  of  a  demon. 

The  scene  also  illustrates  the  solemnity 
of  covenant  obligation  to  the  Christian, 
and  its  eternal  force.  The  individual  con- 
secration, and  baptismal  vow  to  train  off- 
spring for  God,  compared  with  Jeptha's 
hasty  and  criminal  oath,  are  infinitely  more 
fearful— and  inscribed  on  the  columns  of 
the  White  Throne,  will  meet  the  gaze  when 
"  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality." 


WEEE  Life,  like  the  "  Court  of  Death," 
thrown  on  canvass,  it  would  be  no  less  a 
picture  of  contrasts — a  panorama  of  visible 
scenes  and  shades  of  character  dissimilar 
ever,  though  perpetually  changing.  In  the 
market-place,  the  incarnate  fiend  jostles  the 
humble  saint — the  haughty  rich  man  passes 
with  scorn  the  unoffending  poor.  The  vile 
walk  unblushing! y  by  .the  side  of  the  vir- 
tuous, glorying  over  innocence  and  beauty 


116  DELILAH. 

blasted  forever ;  and  the  weak  cower  be- 
neath the  frown  and  grasp  of  the  strong. 
In  the  forum,  the  unworthy  judge  gives 
sentence  on  the  less  guilty  criminal,  and 
the  citizen  of  unstained  integrity  sits  on  the 
same  jurors'  bench  with  the  undetected 
villain.  The  statesman,  the  orator,  and 
the  bard,  crowned  with  honor  and  weary 
of  praise,  lie  raving  with  delirium,  or  in 
idiotic  silence  before  the  intoxicating  bowl ; 
and  the  proudest  prince,  and  the  hero  of  a 
thousand  battles,  kneeling  in  unresisting 
captivity,  cast  crown  and  laurels  at  the  feet 
of  beauty.  Such  a  contrast  as  the  last  has 
distinguished  Delilah  among  the  women  of 
Scripture  memory,  while  by  the  portraits 
already  drawn,  she  forms  one  no  less  strik- 
ing as  a  female  character.  She  was  a 
beautiful  Philistine,  living  on  that  border 
of  Canaan  settled  by  the  tribe  of  Dan. 
Samson,  son  of  Manoah,  who  like  Isaac 


DELILAH.  117" 

was  the  gift  of  God  in  answer  to  prayer, 
became  judge  over  his  nation  harassed  by 
enemies,  about  forty  years  after  Jeptha's 
death.  Of  remarkable  strength  and  daring 
he  was  great  unlike  any  before  Trim.  Barak, 
Gideon  and  Jeptha,  led  brave  armies  and 
obtained  splendid  victories:  Samson  was 
an  army  in  liimself,  and  hurled  defiance  by 
the  might  of  his  single  arm  at  the  hosts  of 
Israel's  foe.  In  one  of  his  excursions  to 
Philistia  he  saw  Delilah,  and  admired  her 
beauty.  The  valiant  judge  had  occasion 
often  afterward  to  visit  the  valley  of  Sorek, 
and  at  length  made  the  damsel  his  bride.* 
The  lords  of  the  Philistines  saw  that 
Samson  was  in  the  toils  of  love — that  a 
syren's  voice  had  well  nigh  drowned  the 
call  of  duty  and  the  mandate  of  "The  un- 


*  His  marriage  is  not  mentioned,  but  as  commentators  differ 
on  this  point,  I  have  chosen  the  supposition  that  Delilah  was 
his  wife. 

6* 


1 18  DELILAH. 

known  God."  They  therefore  went  to  De- 
lilah with  flattering  persuasion  and  a  bribe 
of  money,  to  induce  her  to  extort  from  him 
the  secret  of  his  strength,  and  deliver  him 
into  their  hands. 

Three  times  he  made  a  pastime  of  her 
curiosity,  and  when  she  thought  he  was  her 
captive,  swung  his  sinewy  arms  in  mock-en- 
deavor to  escape,  and  walked  away  from  his 
thraldom  with  a  smile  of  triumph  wreath- 
ing his  lip.  But  as  often  as  she  met  him, 
with  chiding  fondness  Delilah  would  fix  her 
dark  eye  upon  him,  and  throwing  around 
him  all  the  fascination  of  voluptuous  love- 
liness, entreat  him  to  tell  her  the  talisman 
of  his  strength. 

Harassed  with  the  affairs  of  state,  he 
sought  her  home  to  refresh  his  drooping 
spirits,  and  as  often  was  wearied  with  her 
request,  till  one  day  reclining  by  her  side, 
and  completely  under  the  influence  of  her 


DELILAH.  1 19 

charms,  he  told  her  his  long  and  raven 
locks  were  the  badge  of  his  might — the 
glory  of  the  Nazarene.  God  had  made  this 
the  symbol  of  his  miraculous  relation  to 
Him,  and  he  threw  it  as  a  toy  into  the  lap 
of  the  Gentile  beauty.  He  fell  asleep  on  her 
knee,  and  calling  a  Philistine  she  bade  him 
shave  off  the  luxuriant  hair  that  lay  in  folds 
upon  his  brawny  shoulders;  then  cried, 
"  The  Philistines  be  upon  thee,  Samson !" 
He  awakened,  and  starting  at  the  repeated 
alarm,  shook  his  noble  frame,  and  took 
the  wonted  attitude  of  battle  with  his  foes. 
But  Jehovah  who  was  his  strength  had 
abandoned  the  victor.  Despoiled  of  his 
eyes,  he  was  led  to  Gaza,  whose  gates  he 
had  once  borne  away  at  night,  and  loaded 
with  chains  of  brass. 

It  is  not  probable  Delilah  anticipated 
this  result,  but  only  expected  his  temporary 
confinement.  Milton  has  so  beautifully  de- 


120  DELILAH. 

lineated  in  "  Samson  Agonistes"  both  the 
hero  and  his  wife,  we  shall  introduce  ex- 
tracts from  the  scene  of  their  meeting,  just 
before  he  was  led  from  the  mill  where  he  had 
toiled  as  a  national  slave,  to  entertain  with 
his  feats  thousands  of  the  populace  and  no- 
bility assembled  in  the  great  temple  of  Da- 
gon,  worshipping  there  before  his  shrine,  and 
holding  a  jubilee  to  commemorate  the  bril- 
liant achievement  of  the  champion's  capture. 
Delilah  goes  sorrowfully  to  the  lonely 
captive,  yet  admired  of  the  multitude  as 
she  sweeps  by  with  an  air  of  royalty- 
Like  a  stately  ship 
Of  Tarsus,  bound  for  tb'  isles 
Of  Javan  or  Gadire,    . 
With  all  her  bravery  on,  and  tackle  trim, 
Sails  fill'd,  and  streamers  waving, 
An  amber  scent  of  odorous  perfume 
Her  harbinger,  a  damsel  train  behind. 
*         *     But  now,  with  head  dcclin'd, 
Like  a  fair  flower,  surcharg'd  with  dew,  she  weeps, 
And  words  address'd  seem  into  tears  dissolv'd, 
Wetting  the  borders  of  her  silken  veil. 


DELILAH.  121 

Delilah,  attempts  to  conciliate  Samson, 
expressing  her  sorrow  over  the  unlooked- 
for  consequence  of  her  folly,  and  desire  to 
atone,  if  possible,  for  the  fearful  act. 

SAMS. — Out,  out,  hyaena !  these  are  thy  wonted  arts, 
And  arts  of  every  woman  false  like  thee, 
To  break  all  faith,  all  vows,  deceive,  betray, 
Then  as  repentant,  to  submit,  beseech, 
And  reconcilement  move  with  feign'd  remorse, 
Confess,  aild  promise  wonders  in  her  change. 
***** 

DEL. — Yet  hear  me,  Samson ;  not  that  I  endeavor 
To  lessen  or  extenuate  my  offence, 
But  that,  on  th'  other  side  if  it  be  weigh'd 
By  itself,  with  aggravations  not  surcharg'd, 
Or  else  with  just  allowance  counterpois'd, 
I  may,  if  possible,  thy  pardon  find 
The  easier  towards  me,  or  thy  hatred  Ies8. 
First  granting,  as  I  do,  it  was  a  weakness 
In  me,  but  incident  to  all  our  sex, 
Curiosity,  inquisitive,  importune 
Of  secrets,  then  with  like  infirmity 
To  publish  them,  both  common  female  faults : 
Was  it  not  Avenkness  also  to  make  known 
For  importunity,  that  is  for  naught, 
Wherein  consisted  all  thy  strength  and  safety  ? 
To  what  I  did,  thou  show'dst  me  first  the  way, 
But  I  to  enemies  reveal'd,  and  should  not ; 
Nor  shouldst  thou  have  trusted  that  to  woman's  frailty : 
6 


122  DELILAH. 

Ere  I  to  thee,  thou  to  thyself  was't  cruel 
Let  weakness  then  to  weakness  come  to  parl, 
So  near  related  or  the  same  of  kind, 
Thine  forgive  miue.  * 

SAMS. — How  cunningly  the  sorceress  displays 
Her  own  transgressions  to  upbraid  me  mine ! 
*         *         *         Weakness  is  thy  excuse, 
And  /  believe  it ;  weakness  to  resist 
Philistia's  gold  ;  if  weakness  may  excuse, 
What  murderer,  what  traitor,  parricide, 
Incestuous,  sacreligious,  but  may  plead  it  ? 
All  wickedness  is  weakness  :  that  plea  therefore 
With  God  or  man  will  give  thee  no  remission. 

Delilah  tlien  interposes  tlie  plea  of  im- 
portunity from  her  countrymen,  and  relig- 
ious obligation  urged  by  the  priest  of  Dagon. 

SAMS. — I  thought  where  all  thy  circling  wiles  would  end  ; 
In  feign'd  religion,  smooth  hypocrisy. 

DEL. — I  was  a  fool,  too  rash  and  quite  mistaken 
In  what  I  thought  would  have  mended  best. 
Let  me  obtain  forgiveness  of  thee,  Samson, 
Afford  me  place  to  show  what  recompense 
Towards  thee  I  intend  for  what  I  have  misdone, 
Misguided.  *  *  *  * 

I  to  the  lords  will  intercede,  not  doubting 
Their  favorable  ear,  that  I  may  fetch  thee 
Forth  from  this  loathsome  prison  house  to  abide 
With  me.  where  my  redoubled  love  and  care 


DELILAH.  123 

With  nursing  diligence,  to  me  glad  office, 

May  ever  tend  about  thee  to  old  age, 

With  all  things  grateful  cheer'd,  and  so  supplied, 

That  what  by  me  thou  hast  lost,  thou  least  shalt  miss. 

SAMS. — No,  no,  of  my  condition  take  no  care ; 
It  fits  not ;  thou  and  I  long  since  are  twain ; 
Nor  think  me  so  unwary  or  accurst, 
To  bring  my  feet  again  into  the  snare 
Where  once  I  have  been  caught :  I  know  thy  trains, 
Though  clearly  to  my  cost,  thy  gins  and  toils  ;    s 
Thy  fair  enchanted  cup  and  warbling  charms 
No  more  on  me  have  power ;  their  force  is  null'd, 
So  much  of  adder's  wisdom  I  have  learn'd 
To  fence  my  ear  against  thy  sorceries. 
***** 

DEL. — Let  me  approach  at  least  and  touch  thy  hand. 

SAMS. — Not  for  thy  life,  lest  fierce  remembrance  wake 

My  sudden  rage  to  tear  thee  joint  by  joint. 

At  distance  I  forgive  thee ;  go  with  that, 

Bewail  thy  falsehood,  and  the  pious  works 

It  hath  brought  forth  to  make  thee  memorable 

Among  illustrious  women,  faithful  wives. 

Cherish  thy  hasten'd  widowhood  with  the  gold 

Of  matrimonial  treason !     So  farewell. 

DEL. — I  see  thou  art  implacable,  more  deaf 

To  prayers  than  winds  and  seas  ;  yet  winds  to  seas 

Are  reconcil'd  at  length,  and  sea  to  shore  : 

Thy  anger  unappeasable  still  rages, 

Kternal  tempest  never  to  be  cahn'd. 

Why  do  T  humble  thus  myself,  and,  suing 


124  DELILAH. 

For  peace,  reap  nothing  but  repulse  and  hate  ? 
***** 

Fame,  if  not  double-faced,  is  double-mouth'd, 

And  with  contrary  blast  proclaims  most  deeds ; 

On  both  his  wings,  one  black,  the  other  white, 

Bears  greatest  names  in  his  wild  airy  flight. 

My  name  perhaps  among  the  circumcis'd, 

In  Dan,  in  Judah,  and  the  bordering  tribes, 

To  all  posterity  may  stand  defam'd, 

With  malediction  meution'd,  and  the  blot 

Of  falsehood  most  unconjugal  traduc'd. 

But  in  my  country  where  I  most  desire, 

In  Ecron,  Gaza,  Asdod,  and  in  Gath, 

I  shall  be  nam'd  among  the  famousest 

Of  women  sung  at  solemn  festivals, 

Living  and  dead  recorded,  who  to  save 

Her  country  from  a  fierce  destroyer,  chose 

Above  the  faith  of  wedlock  bands ;  my  tomb 

With  odors  visited  and  annual  flowers ; 

Not  less  renown'd  than  in  Mount  Ephraini 

Jael,  with  inhospitable  guile 

Smote  Sisera  sleeping,  through  the  temples  nail'd. 

Nor  shall  I  count  it  heinous  to  enjoy 

The  public  marks  of  honor  and  reward 

Conferr'd  upon  me,  for  the  piety 

Which  to  my  country  I  was  judg'd  to  have  shown. 

At  this  whoever  envies  or  repines, 

I  leave  him  to  his  lot,  and  like  my  own. 

Whether  Delilah  was  in  the  mighty  struc- 
ture when  Samson  was  the   sport  of  his 


DELILAH.  ^  125 

captors — the  subject  of  scorn  and  brilliant 
wit  by  the  nobility  of  Philistia — we  cannot 
tell.  She  may  have  stood  sad  and  silent 
with  remorse,  and  remembered  kindness  she 
would  share  no  more,  while  leaning  mourn- 
fully between  the  massive  pillars  he  grasped 
with  extended  arms,  he  bowed  his  sightless 
head  and  prayed  for  the  return  of  his  for- 
feited power,  that  he  might  avenge  his  own, 
and  the  enemies  of  God.  It  is  in  accord- 
ance with  God's  retributive  justice  on  for- 
mer occasions,  to  believe  she  was  there, 
and  when  in  answer  to  that  piteous  cry  of 
a  penitent  spirit,  the  tall  columns  reeled 
before  his  recovered  strength,  like  interlock- 
ing masts  in  a  wrathful  deep,  and  the  walls 
heaved  and  fell  in  with  the  descending  roof, 
her's  was  the  first  shriek  that  went  up  from 
that  vast  tomb  of  living  throngs,  whose  mu- 
sic and  mirth  were  drowned  in  a  wail  of 
agony  and  groans  of  the  death-struggle. 


126  ^  DELILAH. 

This  wonderful  man,  a  greater  than  Her- 
cules, was  evidently  subdued  by  his  afflic- 
tion, and  a  loyal  worshipper  of  God — with 
all  the  strange  contradictions  in  his  char- 
acter, his  inglorious  fall  and  tragical  death, 
he  joined  without  doubt,  the  patriarchal 
ranks  above  ;  while  the  fair  idolater  clung 
to  her  gods  and  perished  forever. 

Previous  to  her  advent,  the  women  of  Bi- 
ble fame,  pass  before  the  imagination  in  the 
vision  of  antiquity,  like  pure  and  radiant 
stars,  their  frailties  scarcely  more  than  the 
wing  of  a  transparent  cloud  upon  these  beau- 
tiful spheres.  Delilah  rises  suddenly  from 
darkness,  as  a  glorious  meteor  describes  an 
arc  of  romantic  and  fatal  light,  and  goes 
down  in  an  horizon  of  awful  gloom.  Beauty 
with  an  unsanctified  heart,  no  less  than  intel- 
lect, is  a  bright  anathema — and  while  others 
mourn  its  bestowal,  the  possessor  is  ulti- 
mately a  wreck,  over  which  angels  weep ! 


THE  story  of  Ruth,  written  doubtless  by 
Samuel,  and  thrown  in  between  the  deso- 
lating wars  of  the  Judges  and  those  which 
followed  under  the  Kings,  is  a  touching 
picture  of  quiet  pastoral  life — -SL  lifting  of 
the  curtain  rolled  in  blood,  from  the  back- 
ground of  tragic  scenes,  upon  a  peaceful 
home,  where  love  has  its  trial  and  triumph. 
The  thoughts  rest  like  the  Dove  upon  a 
green  hill-top,  after  flying  wearily  over  the 


128  RUTH. 

unburied  slain  and  a  deluged  world,  upon 
this  bright  vision  amid  heathen  cruelties 
and  slaughtered  armies.  We  could  not 
spare  the  short  book  of  Ruth  from  the 
Bible.  It  not  only  illustrates  God's  par- 
ticular providence  and  protection  of  his  peo- 
ple, but  is  an  indispensable  link  in  the  ge- 
nealogy of  Christ,  and  is  thus  quoted  in 
Matthew.  A  Moabitess  is  united  to  the  an- 
cestry of  David,  foreshadowing  the  truth 
that  the  Redeemer  would  shed  his  love 
and  recovering  mercy  on  the  Gentile  nations. 

Voltaire  dwelt  with  enthusiasm  on  the 
marvellous  sweetness  and  simplicity  of  this 
"gem  in  oriental  history." 

Fiction  has  never  written  so  truthful  and 
beautiful  a  tale — one  while  it  reaches  and 
subdues  the  heart,  leaves  no  stain  that 
would  soil  an  angel's  purity.  Like  all  God's 
works  and  manifestations,  it  is  faultless. 

"No  novelist  has  ever  been  able,  with 


RUTH.  129 

his  utmost  efforts,  to  paint  so  lovely,  so  per- 
fect a  character  as  this  simple  story  pre- 
sents. From  first  to  last,  Ruth  appears 
before  us  endowed  with  every  virtue  and 
charm  that  render  a  woman  attractive. 
Naomi's  husband  was  a  man  of  wealth, 
and  left  Bethlehem  to  escape  the  famine 
that  was  wasting  the  land.  In  Moab  he 
found  plenty,  and  there  with  his  wife  and 
two  sons,  who  married  Ruth  and  Orpah, 
lived  awhile  and  died.  In  the  course  of  ten 
years,  the  two  sons  died  also,  and  then 
Naomi,  broken-hearted,  desolate  and  poor, 
resolved  to  return  and  die  in  her  native 
land.  How  touching  her  last  interview 
with  her  daughters-in-law,  when  she  bade 
them  farewell,  and  prayed  that  as  they  had 
been  kind  to  her  and  her  dead  sons,  so 
might  the  Lord  be  kind  to  them.  Surprised 
that  they  refused  to  leave  her,  she  reasoned 

with  them,  saying  that  she  was  a  widow 
G* 


130 


RUTH. 


and  childless,  and  to  go  with  her  was  to 
seek  poverty  and  exile  in  a  strange  land. 
She  could  offer  them  no  home,  and  perhaps 
the  Jewish  young  men  would  scorn  their 
foreign  birth,  and  when  she  died  none  would 
be  left  to  care  for  them  or  protect  them. 
There  they  had  parents,  brothers,  and 
friends,  who  loved  them  and  would  cherish 
them.  On  the  one  hand  were  rank  in  so- 
ciety and  comfort,  on  the  other  disgrace  and 
poverty.  Orpah  felt  the  force  of  this  lan- 
guage and  turned  back ;  but  Ruth,  still 
clinging  to  her,  Naomi  declared  that  it  was 
the  act  of  folly  and  madness  to  follow  the 
fortunes  of  one  for  whom  no  bright  future 
was  in  store,  no  hope  this  side  the  grave. 
She  sought  only  to  see  the  place  of  her 
childhood  once  more,  and  then  lie  down 
where  the  palm  trees  of  her  native  land 
might  cast  their  shadows  over  her  place  of 
rest.  'Go  back,'  said  she,  'with  my  sis- 


RUTH.  131 

ter-in-law.'  She  might  as  well  have  spoken 
to  the  rock : — that  gentle  being  by  her  side, 
all  shrinking  timidity  and  modesty,  whose 
tender  feelings  the  slightest  breath  could  agi- 
tate, was  immovable  in  her  affections.  Her 
eye  would  sink  abashed  before  the  bold 
look  of  impertinence,  but  with  her  bosom 
pressed  on  one  she  loved,  she  could  look  on 
death  in  its  grimest  forms  unappalled.  Fra- 
gile as  the  bending  willow,  she  seemed,  but 
in  her  true  love,  firm  as  the  rooted  oak. 
The  hand  of  violence  might  crush,  but  never 
loosen  her  gentle  clasp.  With  those  white 
arms  around  her  mother's  neck,  and  her 
breast  heaving  convulsively,  she  sobbed 
forth, ' Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,  for  where 
thou  goest  I  will  go,  and  where  thou  lodgest 
I  will  lodge :  thy  people  shall  be  my  people, 
and  thy  God  my  God :  where  thou  diest  I 
will  die,  and  there  will  I  be  buried : — 
naught  but  death  sliall  part  us? 


1 32  RUTH. 

"  Beautiful  and  brave  heart !  home,  and 
friends,  and  wealth,  nay,  the  gods  she  had 
been  taught  to  worship,  were  all  forgotten 
in  the  warmth  of  her  affection.  Tearful 
yet  firm,  'Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,' 
she  said ;  '  I  care  not  for  the  future ;  I  can 
bear  the  worst ;  and  when  thou  art  taken 
from  me,  I  will  linger  around  thy  grave  till 
I  die,  and  then  the  stranger  shall  lay  me  by 
thy  side  P  What  could  Naomi  do  but  fold 
the  beautiful  being  to  her  bosom  and  be 
silent,  except  as  tears  gave  utterance  to  her 
emotions.  Such  a  heart  outweighs  the 
treasures  of  the  world,  and  such  absorbing 
love,  truth  and  virtue,  make  all  the  accom- 
plishments of  life  appear  worthless  in  com- 
parison. 

"The  two  unprotected  women  took  their 
journey  on  foot  towards  Bethlehem.  It  was 
in  the  latter  part  of  summer,  and  as  they 
wandered  along  the  roads  and  through  the 


RUTH.  133 

fields  of  Palestine,  Ruth  by  a  thousand 
winning  ways  endeavored  to  cheer  her 
mother.  Naomi  was  leaving  behind  her 
the  graves  of  those  she  loved,  and  penni- 
less and  desolate,  returning  to  the  place 
which  she  had  left  with  a  husband  and  two 
manly  sons,  and  loaded  with  wealth,  and 
hence  a  cloud  hung  upon  her  spirit.  Yet 
in  spite  of  her  grief  she  was  often  compelled 
to  smile  through  her  tears,  and  struggled  to 
be  cheerful,  so  as  not  to  sadden  the  heart 
of  the  unselfish,  innocent  being  by  her  side. 
And  at  fervid  noon,  when  they  sat  down  be- 
neath the  shadowy  palm  to  take  their  fru- 
gal meal,  Ruth  hastened  to  the  neighboring 
rill,  for  a  cooling  draught  of  water  for  her 
mother,  and  plucked  the  sweetest  flower's 
to  comfort  her. 

"  Thus,  day  after  day,  they  travelled  on, 
until  at  length,  one  evening,  just  as  the  glo- 
rious sun  of  Asia  was  stooping  to  the  wes- 


134  RUTH. 

tern  horizon,  the  towers  of  Bethlehem  arose 
in  sight.  Suddenly  a  thousand  tender  as- 
sociations, all  that  she  had  possessed  and 
all  that  she  had  lost,  the  past  and  the  pres- 
ent rushed  over  her  broken  spirit,  and  she 
knelt  and  prayed  and  wept.  'Call  me 
not,'  said  she  to  the  friends  of  her  early 
days,  who  accosted  her  as  she  passed 
through  the  gates,  '  call  me  not  Naomi,  or 
the  pleasant,  but  Mara,  bitter  y  for  the  Al- 
mighty has  dealt  very  bitterly  with  me.' 

"  Here  again  Ruth's  character  shone  forth 
in  its  loveliness.  She  was  not  one  of  those 
all  sentiment  and  no  principle ;  in  whom  de- 
votion is  mere  romance,  and  self-sacrifice  ex- 
pends itself  in  poetic  expressions.  Though 
accustomed  to  wealth,  and  all  the  attention 
and  respect  of  a  lady  of  rank,  she  stooped  to 
the  service  of  a  menial  in  order  to  support 
her  mother.  With  common  hirelings  she 
entered  the  fields  as  a  gleaner,  and  without 


RUTH.  135 

a  murmur  trained  her  delicate  hands  to 
the  rough  usage  of  a  day-laborer.  At  night 
her  hard  earnings  were  poured  with  a  sniile 
into  the  lap  of  her  mother,  and  living  wholly 
in  her  world  of  love,  was  unmindful  of  every- 
thing else.  Boaz  saw  her  amid  the  glean- 
ers, and  struck  with  her  modest  bearing 
and  beauty,  inquired  who  she  was.  On 
being  told,  he  accosted  her  kindly,  saying 
that  he  had  heard  of  her  virtues,  her  devo- 
tion to  her  mother,  and  her  self-sacrifices, 
and  invited  her  that  day  to  dine  at  the  com- 
mon table.  With  her  long,  dark  locks  fall- 
ing in  ringlets  over  her  neck  and  shoulders, 
and  her  cheek  crimsoned  with  her  recent 
exertions,  and  the  excitement  at  finding 
herself  opposite  the  rich  landlord,  in  whose 
fields  she  had  been  gleaning,  and  who  help- 
ed her  at  the  table  as  his  guest,  sat  the  im- 
personation of  beauty  and  loveliness.  That 
Boaz  was  fascinated  by  her  charms,  as  well 


136  RUTH. 

as  by  her  character,  was  evident.  He  had 
watched  her  deportment,  and  saw  how  she 
shunned  the  companionship  of  the  young 
men  who  sought  her  acquaintance,  and  of 
whose  attentions  her  fellow-gleaners  would 
have  been  proud.  Nothing  was  too  hum- 
ble, if  it  ministered  to  her  mother's  comfort, 
but  beyond  that  she  condescended  to  noth- 
ing that  was  inconsistent  with  her  birth. 
Whether  abashed  by  his  looks  and  embar- 
rassed by  his  attentions,  or  from  her  native 
delicacy  of  character,  she  arose  from  the 
table  before  the  rest  had  finished,  and  re- 
tired. After  she  had  left,  Boaz  told  the 
young  men  to  let  her  take  from  the  sheaves 
without  rebuke,  and  then,  as  if  suddenly 
recollecting  how  different  she  was  from  the 
other  gleaners,  and  that  every  sheaf  was 
as  safe  where  she  trod  as  it  would  have 
been  in  his  own  granary,  he  bade  them  drop 
handfuls  by  the  way,  which  she,  wondering 


RUTH.  ]  37 

at  their  carelessness,  gathered  up.  At  sun- 
set she  beat  it  out  and  carried  it  to  her 
mother.  Naomi,  surprised  at  the  quantity, 
questioned  her  closely  as  to  where  she  had 
gleaned,  and  when  Ruth  told  her  the  histo- 
ry of  the  day,  the  fond  mother  divined  the 
whole.  Her  noble  and  lovely  Ruth  had 
touched  the  heart  of  one  of  her  wealthy 
kinsmen,  and  she  waited  the  issue. 

"The  long  conversations  they  held  to- 
gether, and  the  struggles  of  the  beautiful 

O  i  OO 

Moabitess,  before  she  could  bring  herself 
to  obey  her  mother  and  lie  down  at  the  feet 
of  Boaz,  thus  claiming  his  protection  and 
love,  are  not  recorded.  Custom  made  it 
proper  and  right,  but  we  venture  to  say 
that  Ruth  never  passed  a  more  uncomfort- 
able night  than  that.  Her  modesty  and 
delicacy  must  have  kept  her  young  heart 
in  a  state  of  agitation  that  almost  mocked 
her  self-control.  The  silent  appeal,  how- 


138  RUTH. 

ever,  was  felt  by  lier  rich  relative,  and  he 
made  her  his  wife.  The  devotion  to  her 
helpless  mother — her  self-humiliation  in 
performing  the  office  of  a  menial — the  long 
summer  of  wasting  toil — the  many  heart- 
aches caused  by  the  rough  shocks  she  was 
compelled,  from  her  very  position,  to  receive, 
at  length  met  with  their  reward.  Toiling 
through  the  sultry  day,  and  beating  out  her 
hard  earnings  at  night,  the  only  enjoyment 
she  had  known  was  the  consciousness  that 
by  her  exertions  Naomi  lived.  It  had  been 
difficult,  when  weary  and  depressed,  to 
give  a  cheerful  tone  to  her  voice,  so  as  not 
to  sadden  her  anxious  mother-in-law ;  but 
still  the  latter  saw  that  the  task  she  had 
voluntarily  assumed  was  too  great,  and 
therefore,  at  length,  claimed  from  Boaz  the 
obligations  of  a  kinsman.  Love,  however, 
was  stronger  than  those  claims,  and  he  took 
Kuth  to  his  bosom  with  the  strong  affection 


RUTH.  139 

of  a  generous  and  noble  man.  She  thus 
rose  at  once  to  the  rank  for  which  she  was 
fitted,  and  in  time  the  beautiful  gleaner  of 
the  fields  of  Bethlehem  became  the  great- 
grandmother  of  the  King  of  Israel." 

Ruth  was  naturally  affectionate  and 
amiable,  but  evidently  owed  that  moral  ele- 
vation of  character  which  made  her  decision 
to  go  with  Naomi,  although  a  forlorn  hope 
even  did  not  brighten  their  path,  sublime 
in  its  unyielding  strength,  to  the  religious 
culture  of  that  Hebrew  mother. 

Orpah,  less  deeply  impressed  with  the 
worship  of  the  living  God,  returned  at  the 
urgent  entreaty  of  Naomi,  to  her  wealthy 
friends,  and  the  adoration  of  Chemosh,  the 
deity  of  Moab. 

There  is  a  fine  appeal  to  the  moral  feel- 
ings in  the  last  address  to  Ruth.  "  Behold 
thy  sister-in-law  is  gone  back  unto  her 
people,  and  unto  her  gods ;  return  thou 


140  RUTH. 

after  thy  sister-in-law."  In  her  deep  dis- 
tress, Naomi  knew  not  what  to  do — and 
throwing  all  the  responsibility  on  the  weep- 
ing Ruth,  seemed  to  say,  "  Before  us  is  fam- 
ine and  death — you  can  avroid  sharing  this 
bitter  cup  by  a  return  to  your  people  and 
idols."  With  the  spirit  of  a  martyr  that 
lovely  being  sobbed  while  she  hung  on 
Naomi's  neck,  "  I  cannot  forsake  thee — let 
thy  fate  and  God  be  mine." 

So  did  the  family  of  Elimelech  on  the 
border  of  extinction,  emerge  from  gloom 
into  splendor  which  shines  onward  through 
all  the  lineage  of  David,  blending  at  length 
with  the  glory  that  illumined  the  same  vale 
of  Bethlehem,  when  the  chorus  of  angels 
was  poured  on  the  midnight  air,  because 
their  King  was  cradled  there  in  homeless 
solitude. 


IN  a  rich  valley  of  Mount  Ephraim,  a 
central  range  of  summits  in  Palestine,  El- 
kanali,  a  pious  shepherd,  kept  his  flocks. 
As  Jacob  before  him  he  married  two  wives, 
and  had  also  to  bear  the  curse  which  at- 
tends a  violation  of  the  law  of  marriage  as 
it  came  from  Heaven. 

Peninnah  had  sons  and  daughters,  while 
Hannah,  unblest  with  children,  was  the 

most  tenderly  loved — the   Rachel  of  his 

7* 


142  HANNAH. 

heart  and  home.  Otherwise,  there  was 
nothing  peculiar  or  remarkable  in  the  quiet 
life  of  these  dwellers  among  the  mountains. 
Tracing  their  history,  we  seem  returning 
to  the  patriarchal  age — or  rather  looking 
in  upon  some  "  Cotter's  Saturday  Night1' 
in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  Every  year, 
he  went  with  his  family  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
Shiloh,  near  Bethel,  where  the  Ark  and 
Tabernacle  gathered  for  sacrifice  and  wor- 
ship, the  devout  Hebrews  from  all  their 
plains.  Hannah  was  a  meek  and  saintly 
woman,  but  Peninnah  was  vain  and  haugh- 
ty. Her  jealousy  was  kindled  by  Elka- 
nah's  attention  to  his  more  amiable  wife, 
and  glorying  in  her  offspring,  treated  scorn- 
fully her  childless  rival  in  his  affections. 
This  grieved  Hannah's  sensitive  spirit  du- 
ring their  lonely  travel  to  Shiloh,  and  yearn- 
ing for  the  honor  and  joy  of  a  mother,  she 
would  have  knelt  in  her  sorrow  under  the 


HANNAH.  143 

very  wings  of  the  Cherubim  overshadow- 
ing the  Mercy-Seat. 

Upon  one  of  these  annual  visits,  tempted 
and  heart-broken,  she  wept  till  Elkanah 
touched  by  her  tears  endeavored  to  soothe 
her  with  assurances  of  his  own  deep  affec- 
tion. Unlike  the  petulant  Rachel,  she  ut- 
tered no  reproach,  but  restraining  her  grief, 
lifted  the  gloom  from  his  brow  with  a  smile 
mournful  as  a  gleam  of  sunshine  on  a  solitary 
ruin.  Then  she  sought  the  threshold  of  Je- 
hovah's Temple,  and  bowed  in  silent  prayer. 
The  depths  of  her  being  were  stirred, 
and  wrestling  with  the  Merciful  One,  she 
breathed  a  solemn  vow  that  if  a  son  were 
given  her,  he  should  be  a  consecrated  child, 
and  with  the  stern  discipline  of  a  Nazarine 
prepared  for  perpetual  service  in  the  Lord's 
House.  Responsive  to  her  intense  emotion, 
her  quivering  lips  only  moved.  Eli,  who 
was  sitting  by  the  door-post  of  the  Sanctu- 


i44  HANNAH. 

aiy,  marked  her  strange  deportment,  and 
hastily  misjudging,  accused  her  of  drwik 
enness.  No  murmur  was  heard  from  this 
resigned  and  humble  worshipper,  but  in  sad 
and  melting  accents,  she  said,  "No,  my 
lord,  I  am  a  woman  of  sorrowful  spirit ; 
I  have  drunk  neither  wine  nor  strong  drink, 
but  have  poured  out  my  soul  before  God." 
Eli  was  affected,  and  with  altered  tone  re- 
plied, "  Go  in  peace  :  and  the  God  of  Israel 
grant  thee  thy  petition  thou  hast  asked  of 
him."  Hannah  felt  that  she  had  prevailed 
in  prayar,  and  her  countenance  became  tear- 
less and  hopeful.  When  the  morning  broke 
on  the  hills,  gilding  the  gorgeous  Taberna- 
cle, the  family  arose  and  worshipped  once 
more  toward  the  symbols  of  the  "  Upper 
Sanctuary,"  and  the  flaming  Law  pencilled 
on  the  tables  of  eternity;  then  striking  their 
tent,  journeyed  to  Mount  Ephraim. 

And  a  son  was  born,  named  by  Hannah, 


HANNAH.  145 

Samuel,  asked  of  tlie  Lord.  I  know  not  of 
a  more  sublime  manifestation  of  faith  and 
piety,  than  her  refusal  to  go  up  to  the  year- 
ly festival  until  he  was  old  enough  to  be  left 
there,  according  to  her  vow,  the  living  sac- 
rifice of  an  earnest  and  grateful  heart. 
Her  religious  principle  was  unbending  as 
Paul's  ages  after,  and  the  glory  of  God  filled 
as  vividly  and  constantly  the  horizon  of  her 
thoughts. 

She  went  at  length  to  the  Holy  Temple, 
with  an  oblation  from  the  flocks  and  fields. 
The  priests  laid  a  slain  bullock  upon  the 
altar,  and  while  the  smoke  ascended,  she 
took  from  the  bosom  that  cradled  him  with 
unutterable  tenderness  the  wondering  babe, 
and  gave  him  to  Eli,  saying,  we  might  be- 
lieve half  in  reproof,  "  O  my  lord,  as  thy 
soul  liveth,  my  lord,  I  am  the  woman  that 
•stood  by  thee  here  praying  unto  the  Lord. 
For  this  child  I  prayed ;  and  the  Lord  hath 


146  HANNAH. 

given  me  my  petition  which  I  asked  of  him : 
Therefore  also  I  have  lent  him  to  the  Lord : 
cts  long  as  lie  liveth  he  shall  be  lent  to  the 
Lord."  The  venerable  priest  accepted  the 
consecration,  and  with  a  solemn  benedic- 
tion devoted  Samuel  to  the  service  of  the 
Tabernacle. 

Then  Hannah  uttered  a  prayer,  which  is 
rather  a  lofty  ascription  of  praise  to  the  Al- 
mighty, whose  sovereignty  exalts  the  beg- 
gar, while  he  shivers  the  sceptre  and  sinks 
the  throne  of  a  king.  Kindling  with  rap- 
ture she  emulates  Deborah  in  celebrating 
His  majesty,  till  the  poetic  fire  mounts  like 
a  seraph's  hymn  to  the  unseen  "  Holy  of 
Holies."  Doubtless  Eli  understood  keenly 
the  allusion  of  that  forceful  expression, 
"  The  Lord  is  a  God  of  knowledge,  and  by 
him  actions  are  weighed? 

This  mother,  upon  whose  history  it  is 
sweet  to  linger,  is  the  first  woman  men- 


II  ANN  AIL  147 

tioned  in  the  Bible  kneeling  in  the  attitude 
of  prayer — not  because  others  were  prayer- 
less,  but  to  fill  out  the  delineation  of  ma- 
ternal character  and  duty,  of  which  Han- 
nah is  a  model  of  singular  excellence.  She 
had  the  glow  of  enthusiasm  and  the  com- 
posure under  trial,  of  an  intellect  finely  bal- 
anced, and  disciplined  by  much  communion 
with  God. 

Samuel  grew,  and  bore  through  all  his 
illustrious  career,  the  most  distinguished  of 
judges  and  honored  of  prophets,  the  impress 
of  that  moulding  influence,  continued  in 
kind  by  the  man  of  God,  by  whose  side  he 
trimmed  the  temple-lamps  and  read  the 
mysterious  tablets  traced  by  the  finger  of 
the  Sternal. 

Oh !  what  power  is  lodged  in  a  mother's 
hand — what  eloquence  in  her  prayer,  and 
what  pathos  in  her  tear !  She  can  lead 
her  child  to  the  very  gate  of  Paradise — and 


148  HANNAH. 

pour  into  the  golden  censer  waved  by  the 
Angel  before  the  Majesty  on  High,  the  in- 
cense of  her  petition.  Her  tear  will  burn 
through  life  on  the  brow  it  baptized,  and 
the  pressure  of  her  hand  be  felt  when  the 
world  itself  has  become  a  vanished  dream. 
And  many  in  that  day,  when  Christ  shall 
"  come  to  make  up  his  jewels,"  will  point 
to  the  deepening  glory  that  spreads  away 
to  the  mount  of  God,  and  murmur — 

"  A  mother's  holy  prayer, 
A  mother's  hand  and  gentle  tear 
Have  led  the  wanderer  there !'' 


THE  mild  administration  of  the  Judges 
had  passed  away.  The  splendor  of  the  re- 
gal period  of  the  Hebrews  had  reached  its 
meridian ;  and  the  fame  of  Solomon  attract- 
ed to  his  court  a  distinguished  visitor — 
"The  Queen  of  the  South." 

The  land  of  Sheba  was  the  Happy  Ara- 
bia of  the  ancients,  and  is  the  Sabaea  and 
Araby  the  Blest  of  modern  poets.  The 
present  name  is  Yemen.  It  is  the  south 


150  QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

western  division  of  Arabia,  and  embraces 
an  area  equal  to  the  whole  of  New  Eng- 
land and  New  York.  In  contrast  with  the 
rest  of  Arabia,  it  has  always  been  distin- 
guished for  fertility,  beauty,  and  mineral 
richness.  Especially  has  it  been  famous 
for  gums,  perfumes,  and  spices.  "  Neither," 
says  the  sacred  record,  "was  there  any 
such  spice  as  the  Queen  of  Sheba  gave  to 
Solomon ;"  and  in  our  own  day,  her  coun- 
try is  equally  supreme  in  the  excellence  of 
its  Mocha  coffee.  If  the  region  was  not 
the  mine,  its  cities  were,  of  old,  the  great 
marts  also  of  precious  stones  and  of  gold, 
two  hundred  pounds  of  which  were  inclu- 
ded in  the  gift  of  the  queen  to  the  king  of  Is- 
rael. It  abounds  in  the  palm,  orange,  apricot 
and  sycamore ;  the  hills  are,  and  doubtless 
were,  cultivated  to  their  tops  in  terraces, 
and  by  means  of  artificial  reservoirs ;  the 
valleys  and  water-courses  are  exceedingly 


QUEEN  OF   SHEBA.  151 

luxuriant ;  the  wilder  parts  are  haunts  of 
the  antelope,  gazelle,  leopard,  and  tropical 
birds ;  and,  like  all  Arabia,  it  has  always 
been  the  home  of  that  "  living  ship  of  the 
desert" — the  camel,  and  that  "glory  of 
Arabia" — the  horse.  The  adjacent  seas 
are  filled  with  superb  shells ;  and  the  Per- 
sian Gulf  on  the  one  hand  furnishes  the 
finest  pearls,  the  Red  Sea  on  the  other  the 
most  beautiful  corals  of  all  the  world. 

It  was  in  this  country,  which,  as  Milton 
says,  in  his  picture  of  Paradise, 

"  To  them  who  sail 


Beyond  the  Cape  of  Hope,  and  now  are  past 
Mozambic.  off  at  sea  north-east  winds  blow 
Sabean  odors  from  the  spicy  shore 
Of  Araby  the  blest ;" 

— it  was  in  this  land,  described  in  Lalla 
Rookh  as  the  clime  where 

— "  Glistening  shells  of  ev'ry  dye 


Upon  the  margin  of  the  Red  Sea  lie  ; 

Each  brilliant  bird  that  wings  the  air,  is  seen ; — 

Gay,  sparkling  loories,  such  as  gleam  betweeu 


152  QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

The  crimson  blossom  of  the  coral  tree, 
In  the  warm  isles  of  India's  sunny  sea ; 
And  those  that  under  Araby's  soft  sun, 
Build  their  high  nests  of  budding  cinnamon ; 

—it  was  in  this  kingdom,  and  in  some  pal- 
ace whose  halls,  and  domes,  and 


-"  towers, 


"Were  rich  with  Arabesques  of  gold  and  flowers," 

that  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  whose  name  is 
Balkis  in  the  Arabian  traditions,  was  born 
and  grew,  and  was  crowned  with  the  sov- 
ereignty of  Happy  Arabia. 

No  description  of  her  person  is  given  in 
the  inspired  history.  It  is  enough  to  know 
that  she  belonged  to  a  race  that  is  regarded 
as  supplying  the  "  primitive  model  form — 
the  standard  figure  of  the  human  family." 
Baron  de  Larrey,  surgeon-general  of  Napo- 
leon's army  in  Egypt,  said  of  the  people  of 
this  same  region — the  east  side  of  the  Red 
Sea — "Their  physical  structure  is,  in  all 
respects,  more  perfect  than  that  of  Euro- 


QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  153 

peans ;  their  figure  robust  and  elegant ; 
their  intelligence  proportionate  to  that  phy- 
sical perfection."  Some  of  the  glowing  por- 
traitures in  the  Song  of  Solomon,  indeed, 
are  supposed  to  have  been  drawn  from  his 
fair  and  royal  visitor,  so  that  we  may  infer 
that  she  realized  a  modern  bard's  picture 
of  her  later  countrywomen : 

"  Beautiful  are  the  maids  that  glide 

On  summer  eves,  through  Yemen's  dales, 
And  bright,  the  glancing  looks  they  hide 
Behind  their  sedan's  roseate  veils." 

But  we  have  better  proof  that  she  had  bet- 
ter qualities  than  beauty.  It  is  one  of  the 
perfections  of  the  Bible,  that  it  compresses 
into  a  few  words  the  whole  biography  and 
character  of  many  individuals.  Thus  we 
are  only  told  that  Enoch  "walked  with 
God,  and  was  not;  for  God  took  him;" 
and,  in  the  Gospels,  we  hear  of  a  poor  wro- 

rnan  who  cast  "all  her  living"  into  the 

7* 


154  QUEEN   OF  SHEBA. 

treasury.  In  these  hints,  we  have,  as  it 
were,  the  entire  history  of  a  godly  man,  and 
of  a  poor,  pious  woman.  So,  in  the  brief 
notices  of  the  visit  of  queen  Balkis,  her  in- 
tellectual and  moral  traits  are  clearly  inti- 
mated— her  early  life  readily  suggested. 
The  whole  case  is  conveyed  in  our  Saviour's 
language :  "  She  came  from  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  earth,  to  hear  the  wisdom  of 
Solomon."  In  the  Book  of  Kings,  are  fur- 
ther data.  We  see  her  lively  and  para- 
mount interest  in  religion,  when  it  is  said, 
"she  heard  of  the  fame  of  Solomon,  con- 
cerning the  name  of  the  Lord ;"  her  dispo- 
sition at  once  to  recognize  and  worship  the 
true  God,  in  her  words,  "  Blessed  be  the 
Lord  thy  God,  which  delighted  in  thee,  to 
set  thee  on  the  throne  of  Israel  forever ; 
because  the  Lord  loved  Israel  forever, 
therefore  made  he  thee  king  to  do  judgment 
and  justice" — the  last  words  suggesting,  al- 


QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  155 

so,  her  own  upright  character.  Her  pro- 
ficiency in  knowledge  is  indicated  in  the 
confident  purpose  "  to  prove"  the  wise  man 
"  with  hard  questions."  Her  frankness  and 
earnest  solicitude  to  learn,  are  evident  from 
the  declaration  that  "  she  communed  with 
him  of  all  that  was  in  her  heart,"  words 
that  likewise  discover  to  us  her  long,  care- 
ful retention  of  subjects  of  inquiry.  Her 
interest  in  household  and  architectural  mat- 
ters, is  recorded ;  and  so  candid  and  appre- 
ciative was  she,  that  "  there  was  no  more 
spirit  in  her."  That  she  had  too  much 
sound  sense  to  credit  every  floating  report, 
is  manifest  from  her  refusal  to  believe  the 
rumors  of  the  king's  acts  and  wisdom,  until 
her  eyes  had  seen  them ;  that  she  was  mod- 
estly disposed  to  acknowledge  an  error  from 
her  assurance  that  she  had  been  mistaken ; 
that  she  found  her  highest  happiness  in 
mental  and  moral  improvement,  from  her 


156  QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

exclamation,  "  Happy  are  thy  men,  happy 
these  thy  servants,  who  stand  continually 
before  thee,  and  that  hear  thy  wisdom." 
Happy  thy  servants ! — in  how  slight  esti- 
mation did  she  clearly  hold  all  rank  and  so- 
cial position,  when  she  thus  envied  the  con- 
dition of  menials  who  yet  enjoyed  so  rare 
intellectual  opportunities.  And,  to  crown 
the  whole  delineation,  the  energy  of  her 
character  is  transcendently  illustrated  in 
the  journey  itself — a  journey  equivalent  to 
a  tour  half  around  the  globe,  in  these  days ; 
a  journey  of  twelve  hundred  miles  in  a  di- 
rect line,  and  much  further  in  the  winding 
course  of  travel ;  a  journey  over  mountains, 
and  unbridged  rivers,  and  wide,  trackless 
deserts,  where  the  lion  prowls,  the  scorpion 
stings,  the  simoom  sweeps  in  scorching  pow- 
er, clouds  and  pillars  of  sand  threaten  the 
traveller,  and  fierce  robbers  hover  around 
him ;  a  journey  of  two  months  in  going  and 


QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  157 

two  in  returning,  and  if  made,  as  it  pre- 
sumably was,  in  company  with  the  mer- 
chant caravan  that  is  known  to  have  winter- 
ed in  Sheba  and  spent  the  summers  in  Ca- 
naan, one  that  obliged  her  to  be  absent  the 
greater  part  of  a  year  from  her  dominions. 

It  is  pleasant  to  trace,  in  imagination, 
the  ingenuous,  thoughtful  youth  of  the 
Arabian  Queen,  her  enterprising  maturity, 
the  surprises  and  delights  of  her  visit,  and 
the  benefits  of  it,  resulting  to  her  nation, 
after  her  return.  She  had  been  educated 
with  royal  care,  in  all  the  learning  of  her 
country ;  yet  she  felt  that  her  education 
was  not  finished — that  she  had  much  to 
learn.  Her  mind  was  busy  with  higher 
themes  than  dress,  amusements,  daily  news, 
and  earthly  love ;  her  soul  no  longer  slept  in 
the  animal  life  of  the  senses — of  sights  and 
sounds,  however  refined ;  it  had  awakened 
to  a  deep  feeling  of,  and  a  restless  longing 


158  QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

after,  the  True,  the  Good,  the  Beautiful, 
the  Eternal.  The  crown,  the  sceptre,  were 
hers,  and  she  might  have  contented  her- 
self with  princely  ponip,  with  display  of 
authority,  with  woman's  alleged  desire  to 
rule;  but  this  was  not  enough  for  her. 
The  treasures  of  the  kingdom  were  hers, 
and  she  could  command  in  profusion  the 
pearls  and  corals  of  the  sea,  the  gold  of 
Africa,  the  jewels  of  India,  the  fine  linen  of 
Egypt,  the  purple  of  Tyre,  the  silks  of  Per- 
sia ;  she  might,  like  many  others,  have  sat- 
isfied herself  with  costly  raiment  and  equi- 
page ;  but  these  were  insufficient.  Any 
eastern  prince  would  have  been  made  hap- 
py by  her  hand,  and  she  could  have  at  once 
retired  into  the  seclusion  of  domestic  delight, 
leaving  the  cares  of  state  to  her  officers ;  but 
no,  she  was  conscious  of  higher  objects  of 
existence  than  merely  to  be  well  wedded — 
we  say,  to  be  so,  for  her  inquiring  mind  is 


QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  159 

evidence  of  her  youth,  and  the  silence  of 
sacred  writ,  under  the  circumstances,  is 
proof  that  she  was  a  virgin  queen.  And 
all  the  luxuries  of  the  land  and  the  delicacies 
of  the  sea,  Avere  at  her  disposal ;  yet  she 
could  not  feed  her  immortal  soul  with  the 
ashes  of  pleasure,  nor  expend  her  whole  in- 
tellect in  royal  entertainments.  It  was  not 
permitted  her  to  dance,  for  to  this  day,  the 
dignified  orientals  esteem  that  exercise  ap- 
propriate only  to  slaves  and  hirelings ;  but 
she  could  hire  the  waltzing  maids  of  neigh- 
boring Abyssinia,  with  their  tamborines 
and  tinkling  bells ;  yet  she  had  a  higher 
purpose  of  life  than  amusement,  although, 
without  doubt,  she  was  as  keenly  sensible 
to  the  delights  of  music  and  motion,  as  was 
Coleridge  in  his  dream,  when,  as  he  says, 

"  A  damsel  with  a  dulcimer 
In  a  vision  once  I  saw  ; 
It  was  an  Abyssinian  maid, 
And  on  her  dulcimer  she  play'd, 
Singing  of  Mount  Abora." 


160  QUEEN   OF   SIIEBA. 

Queen  Balkis  could  have  further  tried 
to  slake  her  soul's  thirst  with  the  roman- 
ces and  legends  that  bloom  so  abundantly 
and  gorgeously  in  the  rich  soil  of  Arabian 
imagination ;  and  perhaps  she  tried,  and 
failed  to  satisfy  herself  with  these.  Last 
of  all,  from  her  many  courtiers  and  officers 
and  subjects,  she  could  have  drank  in  flat- 
tery, and  lived  on  the  breath  of  praise. 

After  all,  there  was  something  awake  and 
sleepless  in  her  spirit.  Those  things  in  her 
heart,  of  which  she  afterwards  communed 
with  Solomon,  were  yet  unexplained ;  the 
hard  questions  she  subsequently  put  to  him, 
were  then  unanswered.  She  felt  her  re- 
sponsibility as  a  ruler,  and  her  duty  to  fulfil 
her  lofty  sphere,  and  longed  for  wiser  in- 
struction in  law  and  equity  and  political 
economy,  than  she  had  yet  received.  She 
had  heard  vague  reports  of  the  western  na- 
tions, especially  of  the  miraculous  progress 


QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  161 

of  the  Israelites,  and  she  wished  to  hear  of 
their  history,  and  that  of  other  kingdoms. 
She  looked  upon  the  various  vegetation  and 
animal  life  of  the  earth,  and  desired  to  lis- 
ten to  some  one  who,  like  Solomon,  could 
"  speak  of  trees,  from  the  cedar  that  is  in 
Lebanon  even  unto  the  hyssop  that  spring- 
eth  out  of  the  wall ;  and  of  beasts,  and  of 
fowl,  and  creeping  things,  and  of  fishes." 
She  gazed  on  the  moon  and  stars,  and  felt 
that  there  was  a  higher  wisdom  to  be  drawn 
from  them  than  the  fancies  of  eastern  astrol- 
ogy. She  thought  of  life,  and,  to  her,  it 
was  all  a  bewildering  mystery ;  the  per- 
petual questions  stirred  within  her,  From 
whence  do  I  come  ? — whither  do  I  go  ? 
And  then  she  meditated  on  death  and  the 
dark  unknown  beyond,  and  doubted  not 
there  was  something  to  be  learned  besides 
the  sensual  heaven  of  Arab  poets,  or  the 
transmigration  of  the  Egyptian  and  Hindoo. 


162  QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

She  pondered  concerning  the  Powers  that 
created  and  rule  the  world,  and  dreamed  of 
a  higher  and  holier  Power  than  the  genii 
and  gnomes  and  fairies  of  oriental  romance, 
or  the  gods  of  mythology.  A  quenchless 
flame  of  thought  and  feeling  was  lit  in  the 
warm  heart  and  daring  soul  of  Balkis, 
Queen  of  Araby  the  Blest. 

And  now  as  a  lively  trade  sprang  up  be- 
tween Jerusalem  and  Sheba,  and  caravans 
came  and  went,  and  the  ships  of  Solomon 
sailed  up  and  down  the  Red  Sea,  increasing 
information  was  diffused  in  Happy  Arabia ; 
the  sailors  and  merchants  then,  a.s  now, 
brought  to  unknown  regions,  reports  of  their 
country,  religion,  and  government.  They 
were  summoned  to  the  presence  of  the 
queen,  and  spoke  of  the  amazing  wisdom 
and  glory  of  their  monarch,  of  their  national 
history,  and  of  the  one  true  and  holy  Je- 
hovah. Perhaps,  by  some  chance,  they 


QUEEN   OF   SIIEBA.  163 

brought  manuscripts  of  the  books  of  Moses 
and  of  Solomon,  and  these  deeply  studied, 
fanned  the  curiosity  of  the  queen,  and  en- 
lightened and  enlarged  her  mind.  How- 
ever it  was,  her  decision  was  finally  and 
resolutely  formed.  She  knew  the  weari- 
some length  and  appalling  dangers  of  the 
journey ;  but  her  determination  was  an- 
nounced ;  the  government  was  entrusted  to 
the  hands  of  her  premier ;  the  choicest 
gems,  gold  and  spices  were  selected  for  her 
gifts ;  her  retinue  of  soldiers  and  servants 
equipped  and  mounted,  and  the  march 
commenced,  the  queen  herself  borne  in  a 
sedan,  or  throned  in  a  canopied  shade  on  a 
camel,  or,  her  clear  olive  face  veiled  from 
the  tropical  sun,  she  mounted  her  favorite 
Arab  horse,  and  dashed  forward  in  the  van. 
Sixty  nights,  her  pavilion  was  to  be  pitch- 
ed, and  sixty  mornings,  to  be  struck  again, 
before  she  reached  her  destination. 


164  QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

She  saw  the  verdure  of  her  own  elysian 
land  disappear,  and  came  upon  the  sterile 
soil  of  Hedjaz,  or  Stony  Arabia,  the  Red 
Sea  all  the  while  lying  upon  the  left,  and 
porphyry  Mountains  on  the  right.  After 
thirty  days,  she  came  to  the  half-way  halt 
— the  present  Mecca,  where,  in  those  days, 
or  soon  after,  stood  a  temple  with  three 
hundred  and  sixty  images,  now  supplanted 
by  the  Kaaba  of  the  Mahometans.  Then 
she  passed  the  burning  springs,  surrounded 
with  perpetual  vegetation ;  next,  the  pres- 
ent Medina,  now  the  place  of  the  Prophet's 
tomb,  with  its  four  hundred  columns  and 
three  hundred  lamps,  constantly  burning. 
In  a  few  days,  Mount  Sinai  and  Horeb  rose 
to  view,  and  the  sovereign  gazed  in  wonder 
at  their  shadowy  summits,  recalling  the 
rumor  of  their  memorable  scenes.  Here, 
her  company  crossed  the  hills  of  Arabia, 
struck  upon  the  barren  desert,  and  passed 


QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  165 

Petra — the  City  of  the  Rocks,  which  then 
resounded  with  busy  life,  and  stood  in  all  its 
architectual  freshness,  not,  as  now,  the 
haunt  of  the  bat  and  serpent.  At  last,  the 
Dead  Sea  was  passed,  the  Jordan  forded, 
the  fields  and  vineyards  of  Canaan  entered. 
How  refreshing  was  the  luxuriance  of  the 
land  of  milk  and  honey,  after  the  dreary 
and  fearful  passage  of  the  desert !  The 
southern  caravan  came  in  the  spring,  and 
it  was  therefore  late  in  the  season  when,  in 
the  familiar  words  of  Solomon,  "  the  winter 
is  past  the  rain  over  and  gone ;  the  flowers 
appear  on  the  earth  ;  the  time  of  the  sing- 
ing of  birds  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the 
turtle  dove  is  heard  in  the  land.  The  fig- 
tree  putteth  forth  her  green  figs,  and  the 
vines  with  the  tender  grape,  give  a  good 
smell."  It  is  probable  that  the  King  went 
forth  some  distance  to  meet  his  royal  visi- 
tor, and  if  so,  it  may  explain  the  words  in 


166  QUEEN  OF   SHEBA. 

his  song :  "Who  is  this  that  cometh  out  of 
the  wilderness  like  pillars  of  smoke,  per- 
fumed with  myrrh  and  frankincense,  with 
all  powders  of  the  merchant  ?" 

Thus  did  the  queen  of  the  South  come 
from  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  to 
hear  the  wisdom  of  Solomon.  She  came 
to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  as  she  passed 
it  by  the  same  road  so  often  travelled  by  our 
Saviour  on  his  way  to  Bethany,  the  prospect 
of  Jerusalem,  throned  on  its  hills,  broke  in 
beauty  upon  her  sight.  There,  in  full  view, 
like  a  scene  of  magic,  was  the  temple- 
front,  its  porch,  or  tower,  rising  two  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  top  of  Mount  Sion ; 
there  were  Solomon's  palace,  the  Queen's 
palace,  the  house  of  the  forest  of  Lebanon, 
the  porch  of  judgment ;  and  both  temple 
and  palace,  porch  and  pinnacle,  so  glittering 
with  gold,  so  studded  with  pillars,  rich  in 
carvings  of  cherubim,  lions,  palm-trees,  and 


QUEEN  OF   SHEBA.  167 

flowers,  varied  with  the  purple,  yellow  and 
white  of  cedar  and  fir,  that  the  whole  re- 
sembled a  scene  which  outrivals  the  gor- 
geous wealth  of  the  East — a  scene  which 
this  queen  was  never  to  behold — an  Ameri- 
can forest  in  the  splendors  of  October. 
Gazing  at  the  glories  of  Mount  Sion,  she 
crossed  the  brook  Kedron,  and  was  received 
at  the  palace  with  royal  honors. 

The  main  incidents  during  the  visit  are 
given  in  the  sacred  narratives.  The  high- 
born guest  saw  the  arrangements  of  the 
palace;  the  royal  table,  to  supply  which 
for  one  day,  required  thirty  oxen  and  two 
hundred  sheep,  besides  deer  and  fowl ;  the 
two  hundred  targets,  and  three  hundred 
shields,  and  various  vessels,  all  of  gold  ;  the 
ivory  throne,  with  its  twelve  carved  lions  ; 
the  thousand  chariots  and  twelve  thousand 
horsemen;  the  gardens  of  spikenard  and 
saffron,  pomegranates  and  cinnamon ;  the 


168  QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

"  orchards  planted  with  all  kinds  of  fruit," 
and  beautiful  with  "  fountains  and  pools 
of  water;"  and  the  massive  stone  walls, 
built  up  from  the  valleys  to  support  the 
temple,  some  of  the  immense  blocks  re- 
maining to  this  day.  She  heard  the  singers 
and  the  "  musical  instruments  of  all  sorts." 
To  the  temple,  she  was  not  admitted  ;  but 
we  are  told  that  she  saw  the  ascent  by 
which  the  king  went  up  thither ;  and  pos- 
sibly, through  the  gates  and  doors,  she  may 
have  distantly  seen  the  brazen  sea,  and  the 
glory  of  the  Lord,  filling  the  holy  place. 

Above  all,  she  heard  the  wisdom  of  Sol- 
omon. From  his  own  lips  she  heard  some 
of  those  "  three  thousand  proverbs,  and  a 
thousand  and  five  songs,"  spoken  of  by  the 
sacred  writer.  She  put  all  her  hard  ques- 
tions— communed  of  all  that  was  in  her 
heart.  Doubtless  the  conversation  was  not 
made  up  of  wit  and  dalliance,  and  the  com- 


QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  169 

pliments  of  courtesy;  nor  did  they  talk 
alone  of  fashion,  idle  news,  and  the  weather. 
The  king  was  not  obliged  to  treat  her  as  an 
unthinking  being,  but  rather  driven  to  ex- 
ert all  his  intellect  to  answer  her  inquiries 
into  the  great  matters  of  law,  history,  sci- 
ence, and  religion.  Such  a  journey  was 
not  undertaken  for  nothing.  The  Redeemer 
had  declared  expressly  that  she  "  came  to 
hear  wisdom" — would  that  this  was  more 
often  the  object  of  travel  and  of  conversation. 
How  long  she  remained  is  not  stated. 
If,  as  already  assumed,  she  came  with  the 
great  merchant  caravan,  she  may  have  staid 
two  months  in  Canaan,  and  may  have  vis- 
ited other  places.  "She  turned,  and  went 
to  her  own  country."  That  her  visit  re- 
sulted in  good  to  her  nation,  as  well  as  to 
herself,  we  have  some  evidence.  We  find, 
from  history,  that  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
seven  years  before  Christ,  the  patriotic  and 


170  QUEEN  OF  SHEBA. 

pious  Maccabees  propagated  a  pure  religion 
more  readily  in  Sheba  than  elsewhere,  and 
that  the  people  were  morally  superior  to 
the  rest  of  the  Arabians.  Thus,  more  than 
eight  hundred  years  after  the  death  of  this 
queen,  there  was  a  happy  state  of  things  in 
her  country,  which,  it  is  fair  to  suppose, 
originated  in  her  wisdom,  energy  and  piety. 
It  is  the  crowning  praise  of  this  crowned 
woman,  that,  in  all  probability,  she  faith- 
fully discharged  the  high  duties  of  her 
sphere,  benevolently  communicated  her 
knowledge  to  her  subjects,  and  fulfilled  the 
mission  of  her  life. 

Aside  from  her  energy,  the  two  grand 
features  of  the  character  of  Queen  Balkis, 
as  developed  in  the  inspired  history,  are 
her  mental  activity  and  religious  inclina- 
tion. Like  the  two  immense  columns  of 
brass,  ornamented  with  pomegranates  and 
chain-work,  that  stood  in  front  of  Solomon's 


QUEEN   OF   SHEBA.  171 

temple,  these  intellectual  and  spiritual  ten- 
dencies were  the  noble  pillars  of  her  char- 
acter, around  which  all  her  lighter  graces 
of  soul  were  wreathed.  These  capabilities, 
diligently  cultivated,  prepared  her  to  fulfil 
the  lofty  purpose  of  her  existence.  And  it 
is  in  the  power  of  every  high-minded  wo- 
man to  be  a  queen,  and  wield  a  sceptre  of 
influence  as  potent  as  the  literal  sceptre  of 
the  sovereign  of  Happy  Arabia.  Nor  has 
the  young  American  woman  now  to  come 
from  the  ends  of  the  earth,  to  hear  the  wis- 
dom of  the  wise.  All  knowledge  is  within 
her  reach,  and  she  is  raised  to  the  dignity 
of  the  equal  and  companion  of  man.  Nor 
is  there  any  danger  that,  under  a  true  cul- 
tivation, she  will  neglect  more  appropriate 
duties  in  higher  aspirations.  Woman's 
sphere  is  just  that  circle  of  influence  which 
she  can  fill  without  the  neglect  of  her 
special  offices,  though  it  be  a  world  blessed 


172  QUEEN   OF   SHEBA. 

by  her  benevolent  aid,  or  instructed  or  de- 
lighted by  her  thought.  And  to  fill  this, 
her  powers  need  not  be  obtrusively  ex- 
erted; her  authority,  whether  asserted  or 
not,  will  be  in  exact  proportion  to  her  in- 
telligence and  moral  force  of  character ;  and 
a  silent  but  powerful  influence  will  neces- 
sarily go  out  from  her,  as  the  Arabian 
queen,  perfumed  with  myrrh  and  frankin- 
cense, and  bearing  costly  spices,  everywhere 
on  her  journey  made  the  desert  air  rejoice 
in  the  balmy  breath. 


JEZEBEL  was  a  Sidonian  princess  of  com- 
manding figure,  vigorous  intellect,  and  de- 
praved heart.  Like  Delilah,  she  was  a  vo- 
luptuary and  an  idolater. 

Ahab,  king  of  Israel,  a  man  of  weak  mind 
and  utterly  destitute  of  moral  principle, 
from  a  motive  of  policy  similar  to  that  which 
controls  matrimonial  alliances  among  the 
sovereigns  of  Europe,  or  influenced  by  her 
personal  attractions,  made  her  his  queen. 


174  JEZEBEL. 

Her  genius  soon  gave  her  the  ascendency 
over  him  and  in  the  cabinet  of  his  king- 
dom. In  the  temples  of  Ashtaroth  and 
Baal,  she  had  bowed  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  a  devotee.  She  kissed  the  hideous  im- 
ages of  her  gods  with  burning  lip,  and 
breathed  their  names  with  the  reverence 
and  consecration  of  a  martyr.  And  when 
she  rode  to  the  capital  of  Israel,  and  saw 
on  the  hills  and  house-tops  no  altars  but 
those  of  the  golden  calves  of  Dan  and  Beth- 
el, symbolical  of  the  Living  God,  with  the 
silent  energy  of  an  independent  spirit,  con- 
scious of  its  power  to  rule,  her  purpose 
was  formed  to  revolutionize  the  ancient  re- 
ligion of  the  Hebrews,  and  in  the  very 
Tabernacle  of  the  Shekinah,  kindle  the 
flame  of  sacrifice  to  the  sun-god — Baal. 

The  festivity  and  civic  display  attending 
her  reception  at  court  passed  by,  the  accla- 
mations of  the  people  ceased,  and  her  work 


JEZEBEL.  175 

was  begun — this  resolute  propagandist  of 
idolatry,  who  resembles  Lady  Macbeth  in 
the  great  and  revolting  qualities  of  her  char- 
acter, was  imbued  with  the  sentiment  of 
the  invocation  of  that  illustrious  homicide. 

"  Come,  come,  you  spirits, 


That  tend  on  mortal  thoughts,  unsex  me  here ; 
And  fill  me  from  the  crown  to  the  toe,  top-full 
Of  direst  cruelty  !  make  thick  my  blood, 
Stop  up  the  access  and  passage  to  remorse ; 
That  no  compunctious  visitings  of  nature 
Shake  my  fell  purpose,  or  keep  peace  between 
The  effect  and  it." 

The  prophets  were  the  first  victims  of 
her  malignant  cruelty,  and  were  slaughtered 
till  only  a  hundred  were  left,  who  were 
concealed  by  the  good  Obadiah,  governor 
of  the  royal  household.  From  the  fact  that 
no  more  mention  is  made  of  them,  it  is  evi- 
dent they  were  at  length  dragged  forth  by 
the  executioners  of  her  hostility  to  the  wor- 
ship of  Jehovah,  although  its  celestial  glory 
was  already  gone,  and  its  hallowed  rites 


176  JE7EBEL. 

had  given  place  to  the  forms  of  prevailing 
superstition. 

Elijah,  gifted  and  fearless,  was  especially 
the  object  of  Jezebel's  hatred.  lie  lived 
awhile  by  the  brook  Cherith,  near  Jordan, 
a  solitary  hermit,  mysteriously  fed  by  ra- 
vens, till  the  approaching  footsteps  of  the 
messengers  of  death  perilled  his  life.  The 
Lord  then  sent  him  to  the  house  of  a  poor 
widow  in  Zidon, whose  table  he  miraculously 
supplied,  and  raised  her  only  son  from  the 
dead.  One  day,  when  Obadiah,  by  the 
command  of  Ahab,  was  surveying  the 
land  to  find  a  gushing  spring  or  green  spot 
for  the  flocks  perishing  in  the  famine  with 
which  God  had  cursed  the  nation,  Elijah 
met  him,  and  told  him  to  inform  the  king 
of  his  abode. 

The  monarch,  goaded  on  by  the  unwast- 
ing  zeal  of  the  queen,  went  forth  to  slay 
his  enemy.  But  the  prophet  hurled  back 


JEZEBEL.  177 

his  bitter  reproaches,  until  he  stood  pale 
and  cowering  beneath  the  eagle  eye  of  his 
accuser ;  and  then  proposed  to  go  with  him 
to  Mount  Carrnel,  where,  in  the  presence 
of  his  pagan  priesthood,  the  authority  of 
Baal  against  that  of  God  should  be  fairly 
and  finally  tested.  Like  the  dark  waves 
which  clasp  the  summit  they  are  submerg- 
ing, the  thousands  of  Israel  crowded  up  the 
lofty  mountain  to  behold  the  scene — for 
fire  from  Heaven  was  to  descend  on  the 
altar  of  the  Lord,  or  his  homage  be  trans- 
ferred forever  to  the  idols  of  Jezebel. 

The  four  hundred  and  fifty  priests  erected 
their  altar,  and  called  on  Baal  till  their 
cries  were  one  wild  shriek,  and  cut  their 
flesh  till  the  trenches  ran  with  blood  ;  but 
there  came  no  consuming  shaft  from  the 
skies — no  voice  of  approval  stilled  the 
wailings  of  the  frantic  worshippers.  Then 
Elijah  built  the  despised  altar  of  Jehovah, 


178  JEZEBEL. 

laid  the  slain  victims  thereon,  and  flooding 
the  whole  with  water,  gathered  the  excited 
throng  around  it.  The  god  of  the  sun 
had  given  no  answer  but  the  steady  blzae 
which  withered  the  fields  and  made  the 
starving  millions  living  skeletons.  Now  in 
lonely  majesty  the  hunted  prophet  knelt 
in  prayer,  "  and  lo,  fire  from  the  cloudless 
heavens  fell  like  falling  lightning,  and  the 
bullock  smoked  amid  the  water  that  flooded 
it,  and  a  swift  vapor  rose  from  the  top  of 
Carmel,  and  all  was  over."  Then  arose 
the  swelling  shout,  "  The  Lord  he  is  the 
God  ;  Jehovah  he  is  God !"  The  prophets 
of  Baal  were  massacred  in  the  valley  below, 
turning  the  waters  of  Kishon  in  to  a  crimson 
flood.  The  people  dispersed  in  the  silence 
of  an  unearthly  fear,  and  Elijah  went 
back  to  the  brow  of  Carmel  to  pray  for 
rain. 

While  Ahab  tarried  for  refreshment,  the 


JEZEBEL.  179 

march  of  the  tempest  came  to  the  prophet's 
listening  ear,  and  he  sent  his  servant  to 
hasten  the  king's  night  to  Jezreel.  Elijah, 
strengthened  by  the  might  of  the  Lord, 
wrapped  his  mantle  about  him,  and  girded 
his  lions,  while  the  wrathful  clouds  black- 
ened above  his  dauntless  form  like  a  de- 
scending robe  becoming  his  dignity,  and 
ran  before  the  foaming  steeds  of  Ahab,  to 
the  gates  of  the  city. 

He  thought  Jezebel  could  not  fail  to  be- 
lieve now  the  king  had  bowed  before  the 
God  of  Israel,  and  been  dazzled  with  the 
glance  of  his  omniscient  eye.  She  listened 
proudly  and  unmoved  to  the  story  of  her 
trembling  lord,  then  sent  a  messenger  to 
Elijah,  threatening  with  an  oath,  to  mingle 
with  the  corpses  of  her  priests,  his  own 
body,  before  the  evening  of  another  day. 
He  fled  to  Beersheba,  and  his  unrelent- 
ing persecutor,  bewailing  the  dead,  effaced 


180  JEZEBEL. 

with  raillery  and  scorn  from  the  heart  of 
Ahab,  any  impression  the  miracle  may  have 
made,  chiding  him  till  he  was  ready  to  sue 
for  pardon,  for  his  weakness  on  Mount 
Carmel. 

And  soon  after,  when  he  wanted  the  vine- 
yard of  Naboth,  a  citizen,  to  extend  his 
gardens,  but  could  not  prevail  on  him  to  part 
with  the  ancestral  possession,  he  went  in 
tears  to  the  palace,  and  throwing  himself 
on  his  couch  refused  to  eat.  Jezebel  heard 
his  complaint,  and  gazing  upon  him  with  a 
glow  of  indignation,  and  the  fierce  passions 
of  a  tigress,  she  said  contemptuously,  "  Dost 
thou  not  govern  the  kingdom  of  Israel? 
Arise,  and  eat  bread,  and  let  thy  heart  be 
merry :  /  will  give  thee  the  vineyard  of 
Naboth,  the  Jelzeelite."  Faithful  to  her 
promise,  she  wrote  letters  in  the  name  of 
Ahab,  and  with  the  royal  seal,  sent  them 
to  the  elders  of  the  city  and  the  nobles, 


JEZEBEL.  181 

commanding  them  to  proclaim  a  fast,  and 
arraign  Naboth  for  blasphemy  against 
"God  and  the  King."  False  witnesses 
were  suborned,  and  the  mock  trial  soon 
closed.  The  victim  was  taken  out  of  the 
city  and  stoned  to  death.  The  remorseless 
queen  then  told  the  king  to  confiscate  the 
vineyard,  for  the  owner  would  trouble  him 
no  more.  He  went  down  accordingly,  but 
while  walking  over  the  grounds,  Elijah 
crossed  his  path,  forewarning  him  of  his 
death,  on  the  very  spot  where  Naboth  died 
at  the  hands  of  a  lawless  mob.  Conscience, 
though  it  slumbered  deeply,  always  awoke 
at  the  sound  of  Elijah's  voice — and  he  ex- 
claimed in  blended  anger  and  anguish, 
"Hast  thou  found  me,  O  mine  enemy?" 
Then  followed  a  terrible  prediction  of  the 
entire  destruction  of  his  family,  and  the 
tragical  end  of  Jezebel. 

Ahab  was  fatally  wounded  not  long  after- 


182  JEZEBEL. 

wards  in  a  battle  with  the  Assyrians,  and 
died ;  the  prophet  ascended  in  a  chariot  of 
fire  to  glory,  and  his  mantle  with  "  a  double 
portion  of  his  spirit,"  fell  on  his  companion 
Elisha,  who  was  to  be  an  actor  in  the  last 
scene  of  this  doomed  dynasty.  He  anoint- 
ed Jehu,  a  captain  in  the  army  of  the  king, 
to  execute  the  hastening  vengeance  of  God. 
The  host  rallied  around  his  standard,  and 
blew  their  trumpets  in  joyful  acclamation, 
while  he  led  them  on  towards  the  walls  of 
the  capital.  Meeting  Joram  son  of  Jezebel 
the  reigning  sovereign,  and  Ahaziah  her 
grandson,  king  of  Juclah,  who  came  forth 
in  their  alarm  at  the  sight  of  that  war-cloud, 
sweeping  as  on  the  wings  of  a  hurricane 
along  the  hills,  he  pierced  the  former  with 
an  arrow,  and  throwing  the  body  into  the 
vineyard  of  Naboth,  slew  the  other  in  his 
chariot,  and  dashed  on  to  the  open  gate  of 
Jezreel.  The  shouts  of  the  populace,  and 


JEZEBEL.  183 

the  rushing  of  chariot-wheels,  reached  the 
chamber  of  the  queen. 

No  time  was  demanded,  no  weeping  for 
the  slain  disturbed  her  Satanic  self-com- 
mand. Painting  her  face,  and  splendidly 
attired,  "she  looked  out  at  the  window," 
and  calling  to  Jehu,  reminded  him  of  the 
fate  of  Zimri  the  conspirator  against  Elah, 
who  perished  in  the  flames  of  the  palace, 
his  own  hand  kindled.  Jehu  looked  up 
and  cried  to  the  eunuchs,  "  Who  is  on  my 
side  ?"  The  quick  reply  wras  the  descend- 
ing form  of  Jezebel,  mangled  on  the  project- 
ing wall,  and  sprinkling  the  horses  with 
blood.  He  then  drove  over  this  dying 
daughter  of  a  king,  and  queen  of  Israel, 
stern,  sullen  and  daring  to  the  last,  till  the 
hoofs  of  his  steed  were  red  with  tram- 
pled dead. 

Entering  now  the  desolate  palace-hall, 
he  told  the  throng  to  go  and  "  see  this  curs- 


181  JEZEBEL. 

ed  woman,  and  bury  her,  for  she  is  a 
king's  daughter."  But  in  accordance  with 
prophecy,  they  found  only  the  fragments  of 
Jezebel's  body  left  by  the  dogs.  Jehu 
continued  his  work  of  slaughter  till  the 
idolatrous  race  was  extinct,  and  the  dis- 
honor cast  on  the  name  of  Jehovah  was 
wiped  out  with  the  blood  of  a  whole  gen- 
eration. 

Woman  may  be  grateful  for  the  seclusion 
that  brings  with  it  the  culture  of  her  sym- 
pathies and  moral  sensibilities;  and  that 
she  is  excluded  from  manifold  temptations 
that  crowd  the  pathway  of  man,  whose  rest- 
less eye  turns  ever  to  the  height,  however 
distant,  whereon  stands  the  temple  of  Mars, 
Jupiter,  or  Mammon ;  inviting  him  to  come 
with  the  sacrifice  of  principle  and  the  hope 
of  Heaven,  and  take 

"  The  wreath  of  glory  that  shall  burn 
And  rend  hU  temples  in  return." 


JEZEBEL.  185 

For  with  the  same  opportunity  and  urgen- 
cy of  motive,  she  would  oftener  enroll  her 
name  among  the  great,  whose  power  blast- 
ed where  it  fell,  and  whose  fame  rose  with 
the  commission  of  gigantic  crimes. 


THE  family  of  Ahab  is  among  the  most- 
impressive  illustrations  in  history,  of  ma- 
ternal influence  for  evil  on  the  character  of 
offspring.  The  nefarious  Jezebel  not  only 
gave  birth  to  Athaliah,  but  laid  a  shaping 
hand  on  her  destiny ;  and  evidently  with  a 
sibyl's  enthusiasm,  opened  before  her  youth- 
ful feet  the  very  descmsusAverni  in  the  mys- 
teries of  crime,  hitherto  unknown  in  royal 
annals.  We  have  no  biography  of  her 


188  ATHALIAH. 

early  years ;  lier  career  of  dissipation  and 
bursts  of  passion  while  a  maiden,  with- 
in the  magnificent  walls  of  her  father's 
palace. 

The  pious  Jehosaphat,  who  reigned  in 
Judah,  strangely  sought  her  hand  for  his 
son  Jehoram.  No  other  motive  can  be  im- 
agined than  the  policy  of  kings,  who  live 
in  jealousy  or  fear  of  each  other.  And 
when  her  husband,  yet  a  youth,  took  the 
sceptre,  she  threw  around  him  the  magical 
power  of  her  wiles,  and  put  forth  the 
guiding  energy  of  genius — a  force,  which 
under  the  mad  rule  of  passions,  like  the 
sun-chariot  in  Phaeton's  hand,  makes  ever 
a  brilliant,  disastrous  and  brief  career ;  and, 

"  Self-stung,  self-deified," 

is  overtaken  by  the  retributive  thunder- 
bolt, at  last. 

One  after  another,  Jehoram's  five  breth- 


ATHALIAH.  189 

ren,  who  held  posts  of  honor  in  the  king- 
dom, and  others  of  the  nobility,  disappeared 
suddenly  under  the  assassin's  stroke,  or 
poison  administered  by  Athaliah,  until  he 
sat  in  solitary  and  sullen  authority,  on  a 
throne  behind  which  was  "  a  power  greater 
than  itself." 

INaboth's  history  had  furnished  a  prece- 
dent the  queen  was  not  unwilling  to  follow, 
and  the  tragedies  in  both  branches  of  an 
impious  line,  remind  us  of  the  Borgia  fami- 
ly of  modern  historyT  who  have  written 
their  names  in  blood,  on  the  ecclesiastical 
and  civil  records  of  Italy.  The  king  was 
smitten  with  disease,  and  after  lingering  for 
two  years,  till  a  loathsome  spectacle  to  his 
friends,  died,  and  left  the  crown  to  Ahaziah. 

This  son,  unlike  his  predecessor,  was  not 
involved  in  the  suicidal  war  with  a  con- 
science made  tender  by  the  piety  of  a  fa- 
ther, but  with  pliant  docility  listening  to 
9* 

• 


190  ATHALIAH. 

the  dark  counsels  of  Athaliali,  was  striding 
onward  in  power  that  spared  neither  Jew- 
ish altar,  nor  the  form  of  a  rival,  when, 
during  a  visit  to  Joram,  he  was  slain  at 
Jehu's  command,  with  the  retinue  that 
escorted  him  to  Jezreel. 

This  gradual  extinction  of  her  family 
did  not  move  the  lion  heart  of  Athaliah. 
She  resolved,  with  demoniac  ambition,  to 
strew  around  the  summit  of  dreaded  pre- 
eminence, the  slain  "  seed  royal,"  from  the 
infant  to  the  manliest  youth ;  and  firmly 
hold  a  sceptre  dripping  with  the  life  cur- 
rent of  her  own  household.  The  order 
was  given,  and,  as  she  thought,  the  massa- 
cre complete,  and,  a  gloomy  despot,  she 
could  repose  upon  a  throne  whose  shadow 
would  terrify,  while  the  sword  that  guarded 
it  would  cut  for  her  a  pathway  whither  a 
sublimely  desperate  will  might  guide  her 
footsteps. 


ATHALIAH.  191 

But  she  had  a  daughter,  not  yet  insensi- 
ble to  human  helplessness  and  the  voice  of 
love.  Among  the  bodies  of  her  brother's 
sons,  which  lay  heaped  together  for  inter- 
ment, Jehosheba  discovered  the  infant  Jo- 
ash,  gasping  for  life,  and  secretly  conveyed 
him  to  her  chamber.  For  six  years  the 
child  was  hidden,  and  Athaliah  reigned 
without  a  rival  in  the  holy  city. 

At  the  expiration  of  that  period,  Jehoi- 
ada  the  priest,  observing  that  the  people 
were  ripe  for  revolution,  conferred  with  the 
centurions,  captains  and  guards,  and  obtain- 
ing from  them  an  oath  of  fidelity  to  his 
cause,  showed  them  Joash  in  the  house  of 
the  Lord.  They  had  supposed  the  royal 
line  extinct,  and  when  they  looked  on  the 
boy,  who  returned  their  caressing  with 
shrinking  wonder,  old  associations  were 
revived,  and  many  a  veteran,  who  remem- 
bered the  glorious  days  departed  long  ago. 


192  ATIIALIAH. 

felt  the  quickening  pulsations  of  slumbering 
loyalty,  and  his  brow  began  to  glow  with 
an  enthusiasm  which  seemed  to  have  van- 
ished forever. 

The  venerable  priest  then  stationed  the 
battalions  at  the  principal  gates  of  the  Tem- 
ple, and  around  the  king,  who  stood  in  the 
bloom  of  his  boyhood,  half  unconscious  what 
all  this  preparation  meant,  encircled  by  a 
wall  of  men  and  gleaming  weapons.  Pla- 
cing the  crown  upon  his  head,  and  the  law 
of  God  in  his  hand,  he  poured  on  that  fair 
forehead,  the  anointing-oil.  Then  the  mul- 
titude "clapped  their  hands,  and  said,  God 
save  the  king!"  till  the  arches  of  the  sa- 
cred edifice  echoed  back  the  acclamation, 
and  the  lofty  columns  rocked  before  the 
steady  tramp  of  thousands,  rushing  to  this 
scene  of  coronation. 

The  jubilant  trumpets,  and  the  deepen- 
ing shouts  caught  the  ear  of  Athaliah,  and 


ATHALIAH.  193 

she  hastened  to  the  house  of  God.  When 
she  saw  the  splendid  array  and  the  surging 
waves  of  excited  men,  and  the  youth 
crowned  in  the  midst  of  them,  while  "  God 
save  the  king"  rolled  in  a  deafening  chorus 
to  the  swell  of  trumpet  blasts,  her  fallen 
glance  read  the  truth  that  sealed  her  doom 
— and  as  a  last  struggle,  she  rent  her  flowing 
robes,  and  shouted,  "  Treason !  Treason  !" 

But  none  flew  to  the  rescue  of  the  fran- 
tic queen.  "  Have  her  forth,"  cried  Jehoi- 
ada,  "without  the  ranges;  and  him  that 
followeth  her  kill  with  the  sword."  The 
command  was  obeyed,  and  her  body  lay  in 
the  highway  to  the  palace,  trodden  in  the 
soil  by  the  horsemen,  who  but  a  few  hours 
before  quailed  before  her  eye  of  flame. 
Mother  and  daughter,  alike  in  unblushing 
impiety  which  vaulted  to  the  stars,  perished 
equally  wretched  in  their  hurried  and  hope- 
less departure  from  a  world  they  made 


194  ATH  ALLAH. 

more  desolate,  to  an  albode  where  Justice 
completes  his  work. 

To  what  a  towering  greatness  in  guilt 
the  intelligent  creatures  of  God  may  attain ! 
Those  whom  poets  call  angels,  and  who 
may  be  so  amid  the  suffering 

"On  life's  broad  field  of  battle," 

become  sirens  on  the  shoals  of  ruin,  or 
quaff  with  a  smile  of  glorying  the  wine- 
cup  of  unmingled  depravity. 

And  through  all  the  history  of  the  He- 
brew nation,  the  lesson  is  enforced  which  Je- 
hovah taught  by  the  prophet,  "In  my  wrath 
I  gave  them  a  king" — as  if  monarchy  were 
a  dernier  re-wort  when  the  dignity  of  self- 
government  was  gone,  and  His  image  so 
nearly  effaced  from  free  intelligences,  that 
the  sovereignty  is  insufficient,  which,  "  like 
the  atmosphere  we  breathe,  is  felt  only  by 
resistance." 


THE  reflective  reader  of  Scripture  feels 
perhaps  more  deeply  than  the  most  logical 
array  of  argument,  the  inherent  evidence  of 
its  inspiration.  There  is  a  singular  and 
unequalled  impartiality  in  its  developments 
of  character.  Amid  the  atrocious  adven- 
tures of  kings,  and  the  conspiracies  of  sub- 
jects— idolatry,  war  and  pestilence — are  ex- 
hibitions of  unblemished  authority,  pure  de- 
votion, and  glimpses  of  domestic  fidelity  and 


196  THE  SHUNAMITE. 

joy,  which  stamp  the  narrative  with  the  seal 
of  a  faithful  record.  True  to  all  experience 
is  the  picture  drawn  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  of 
earth  and  the  immortal  dwellers  upon  its 
surface.  While  that  affirms  a  perfect  crea- 
tion and  disastrous  ruin,  every  observant  eye 
beholds  on  all  sides,  strewn  the  fragments 

"  Of  a  temple  once  complete." 

It  was  during  the  reign  of  Ahab,  that  the 
Shunamite,  whose  name  with  the  "  poor 
widow's"  is  unknown,  left  by  her  philan- 
thropic deeds  an  imperishable  memorial  of 
her  virtue. 

Shunem  was  a  city  in  the  valley  of  Es- 
drelon,  whose  extensive  plains  were  the 
scene  of  the  most  fearful  conflicts  in  Jewish 
warfare,  till  its  soil  was  moistened  with 
blood ;  and  the  billows  of  waving  grain,  as 
on  the  field  of  Waterloo  in  modern  time, 
told  where  the  ridffes  of  the  dead  had 


THE  SHUNAMITK  197 

mouldered.  Before  this  wealthy  town, 
Saul  encamped  with  his  army  on  the  eve 
of  his  last  great  battle. 

It  was,  therefore,  often  the  asylum  of 
wounded  and  dying  wrarriors  of  bordering 
nations  ;  and  its  inhabitants  had  every  op- 
portunity for  the  exercise  of  mercy  and 
kindness  to  the  suffering.  Among  those 
who  sought  occasion  for  doing  good,  in  the 
expansive  spirit  of  pure  benevolence,  was 
a  woman  of  fortune  and  influence.  She 
met  Elisha  one  day  on  his  way  to  Mount 
Carmel,  and  gave  him  a  pressing  invitation 
to  share  the  hospitality  of  her  dwelling. 

He  accepted,  and  during  the  interview, 
there  was  awakened  a  religious  sympathy 
and  friendship,  which  continued  ever  after. 
In  his  travels  through  Shunem,  he  made 
her  house  his  home. 

Observing  that  the  man  of  God  was  medi- 
tative and  spiritual,  with  the  consent  of  her 


198  THE   SHUNAMITE. 

liusband,  slie  furnished  a  little  chamber  ex- 
pressly for  Ms  accommodation.  By  an  Ori- 
ental scat,  she  placed  a  lamp  that  would 
burn  all  night ;  still  a  custom  -in  the  east 
when  a  guest  is  received  with  flattering  at- 
tention. An  English  traveller  not  many 
years  ago  was  thus  entertained  at  the  house 
of  a  Jew  in  Asia  Minor. 

That  cheerful  seclusion  became  dear  to 
Elisha ;  and  his  raptures  while  prophetic 
visions  made  its  walls  a  diorama  of  the  fu- 
ture, will  be  known  only, 

"  When  pictured  on  the  eternal  wall, 
The  past  shall  reappear." 

It  was  after  a  day  of  weariness  of  frame 
and  of  heart,  he  reached  at  eventide  his  fa- 
vorite attic.  The  Shunamite  heard  his  foot- 
steps, and  supplied  his  table,  anticipating 
with  wakeful  interest  all  his  wants.  The 
next  morning,  contemplating  her  unwea- 
ried kindness,  lie  was  touched  by  the  recol- 


THE   SHUNAMITE.  199 

lection  of  so  disinterested  love  towards  a 
homeless  seer,  and  told  his  faithful  servant 
to  call  her.  He  inquired  what  he  could  do 
for  her  in  return. 

The  miracles  he  had  wrought,  made  him 
a  favorite  at  the  royal  court,  and  he  offered 
to  use  his  influence  with  the  king  and  the 
captain  of  his  host,  in  her  behalf.  He 
doubtless  referred  to  an  honorable  position 
in  the  palace,  or  military  aid  and  glory  if 
desired,  for  her  husband. 

The  reply  displays  her  beautiful  con- 
tentment with  retirement — "I  dwell  among 
my  people ;"  the  cordialities  of  social  life  and 
the  amenities  of  home,  were  all  within  the 
bright  circle,  ambition  had  drawn  on  "  the 
sands  of  time."  Thwarted  in  his  purpose, 
Elisha  consulted  Gehazi,  who  suggested 
that  no  offspring  beguiled  the  hours  of  the 
lonely  Shunamite.  He  knewT  how  the  hope 
of  forming  at  least  a  link  in  the  lineage  of 


200  THE   SHUNAMITE. 

the  Messiah,  to  a  Jewish  wife,  made  a 
childless  marriage  doubly  desolate.  The 
prophet  again  sent  for  her,  and  moved 
by  the  unerring  spirit,  promised  her  a 
son.  In  the  rush  of  emotion  the  announce- 
ment excited,  and  feeling  the  improbabil- 
ity of  the  event,  she  entreated  Elisha  not 
to  mock  her  tears,  for  that  hope  had  with- 
ered long  ago. 

He  calmed  her  agitation,  and  renewed 
the  promise.  The  child  was  born  and  grew 
up  an  idol  by  her  side.  Upon  a  summer 
day,  he  rambled  into  the  harvest  fields, 
where  his  father  was  at  work  with  the 
reapers.  His  pastime  among  the  sheaves, 
and  his  blithesome  laugh,  made  the  old  man 
forgetful  of  his  toil.  Often  p'ausing  over 
the  gathered  grain,  he  watched  the  lad, 
while  a  smile  passed  like  a  gleam  of  light 
over  his  tranquil  features. 

But  the  sun  blazed  in  a  cloudless  sky, 


THE  SHUNAMITE.  201. 

and  beat  on  that  tender  brow,  till  it  drooped 
as  a  stricken  flower.  His  brain  was  on  fire 
with  pain,  and  passing  his  forehead  with 
his  little  hands,  he  looked  into  his  father's 
face  and  cried  piteously,  "  My  head,  iny 
head."  He  was  carried  to  his  mother,  but 
nothing  could  revive  his  sinking  form  or 
retain  the  suffering  spirit.  At  noontide  he 
laid  his  head,  like  a  wounded  bird  nestling 
under  the  maternal  wing,  upon  her  bleed- 
ing bosom,  and  died.  She  gazed  awhile  on 
the  expressionless  eye,  and  the  face  yet 
beautiful,  over  which  the  death-pallor  was 
stealing,  and  then  her  thoughts  flew  to  the 
man  of  God. 

She  went  to  Elisha's  chamber,  laid  the 
corpse  on  his  bed,  closing  the  door  gently, 
as  if  she  might  disturb  that  strange  slumber, 
requested  her  husband  to  send  immediately 
a  young  man  and  an  ass.  But  he  had  given 

up  for  burial  his  dead  boy,  and  thought  her 
9* 


202  THE   SHUNAMITE. 

frantic  grief  had  shaped  this  wild  purpose 
of  finding  the  prophet.  With  surprising 
self-command,  she  replied,  "It  shall  be  well," 
and  vaulting  into  the  saddle,  bade  her  at- 
tendant to  drive  the  animal  to  the  top  of 
his  speed. 

Elisha  was  on  the  summit  of  Carmel — 
the  highest  promontory  on  the  coast  of  Pal- 
estine. It  is  mantled  with  foliage  from  its 
crown  of  whispering  pines  and  lofty  oaks,  to 
the  olive  and  laurel  girdling  its  slopes  with 
fruit  and  evergreen.  Adown  its  sides,  a 
multitude  of  crystal  streams  dance  be- 
neath interlocking  boughs,  to  the  sweeping 
Kishon,  marching  to  the  blue  Mediterra- 
nean. It  has  a  thousand  caves,  which  have 
ever  been  the  abode  of  prophet,  recluse  and 
monk.  From  its  top,  the  view  of  the  bay 
of  Acre,  with  its  fruitful  shores — the  blue 
peaks  of  Lebanon,  and  the  White  Cape,  is 
enchanting. 


THE   SHUNAMITE.  203 

Tlie  seer  was  looking  off  on  this  land- 
scape spreading  away  on  every  side,  in 
which  the  grand  and  picturesque  view  inin- 
gied  in  endless  variety,  and  waiting  for  reve- 
lations from  the  fearful  dome  above  to  a  be- 
wildered world,  when  he  beheld  in  the  haze 
of  a  distant  vale  the  hastening  Shunamite. 
lie  told  Gehazi  to  go  clown  and  meet  her, 
and  inquire  if  it  were  wrell  with  her  family. 
With  tearful  resignation,  she  answered,  "It 
is  well"  and  pressed  upward  to  the  eminence 
where  Elisha  sat.  The  servant  deeming 
her  an  irreverent  intruder  on  the  hallowed 
solitude,  held  her  back,  till  at  Elisha's  com- 
mand, she  was  suffered  to  clasp  his  robe  in 
anguish. 

God,  for  some  reason,  had  not  informed 
the  prophet  of  that  domestic  calamity. — 
With  what  delicacy  and  force  she  made 
known  her  affliction — said  nothing  of  the 

O 

child's  sickness  and  death,  but    reminded 


THE   SHUNAMITE, 

him  that  when  she  desired  the  blessing  it 
was  with  a  request  that  he  would  not  de- 
ceive her — as  if  it  were  more  cruel  than 
neglect,  to  press  the  cup  of  joy  to  her  lips, 
and  dash  it  aside — to  relight  the  star  of 
hope  upon  her  solitary  way,  then  blot  it 
out  forever. 

Elisha  understood  the  sad  import  of  the 
appeal,  and  bade  Gehazi  go  and  lay  his 
staff  upon  the  face  of  the  sleeper.  But  a 
mother  was  not  so  put  off.  She  clung  to 
Elisha,  saying,  "  As  the  Lord  liveth,  and 
as  thy  soul  liveth,  /  will  not  leave  ihee  /" 
The  servant,  proud  of  the  honor,  ran  and 
laid  the  staff  on  the  dead — but  there  was 
no  stirring  amid  the  chords  of  the  pulseless 
frame — no  voice  answered  to  his  call. 

The  prophet  entered  the  chamber  alone, 
"  and  shut  the  door  upon  the  twain" — the 
living  and  the  dead.  He  knelt  in  prayer, 
then  rose  and  stretched  himself  on  the  body. 


THE    SHUNAMITE.  205 

Warmth  returned  faintly,  and  in  his  men- 
tal agitation,  lie  strode  with  hurried  step 
through  the  silent  apartments  of  that  house 
of  mourning.  Once  more  he  embraced  the 
corpse,  and  the  luminous  eye  opened  sweet- 
ly upon  him,  as  when  he  turned  in  hither 
for  reposing  from  the  dust  of  travel,  and 
met  upon  the  threshold  the  laughing  boy. 
The  Shunamite  was  called,  and  when  she 
saw  again  the  wonted  smile,  and  heard 
again  the  music  of  a  harp  that  seemed 
unstrung  forever,  utterance  was  not  equal 
to  her  full  heart,  and  she  sank  at  Eli- 
sha's  feet.  Then  taking  up  her  son  with 
a  clasping  energy  of  fondness,  none  could 
know,  unless  like  her  they  emerged  from 
the  shadows  of  the  tomb,  snatching  from 
death's  skeleton  hand  a  loved  one,  she  has- 
tened to  her  husband ;  and  Elisha  went  on 
his  prophetic  mission. 

Years  after,  famine  drove  the  Shunamite 


206  THE  SHUNAMITE. 

to  a  foreign  land.  When  she  came  back, 
her  possessions  were  gone,  strangers  had  ef- 
faced her  title,  and  she  was  penniless.  Just 
at  this  point  of  despair,  Gehazi  was  conver- 
sing with  the  king  respecting  Elisha's  mir- 
acles, and  particularly  the  restoration  of 
the  dead  in  Shunem.  When  the  houseless 
widow  was  proved  by  that  servant  to  be 
the  same  for  whom  the  marvellous  deed 
was  done,  the  monarch  sent  officers  to  re- 
store her  fortune ;  rendering  at  last  through 
the  prophet's  popularity,  the  aid  he  appre- 
hended she  might  need,  when  his  gratitude 
was  struggling  to  find  expression. 

Here  we  have  the  history  of  another 
noble  mother,  to  whom  the  honor  of  God 
in  daily  life,  and  in  the  gift  of  offspring,  was 
the  central  thought — the  sublime  principle 
of  action,  and  sustaining  power  beneath  the 
beatings  of  the  storm  that  darkened  her 
future. 


THE   SHUXAMITK  207 

And  so  God  takes  care  of  his  trusting 
ones,  who  hold  on  to  his  extended  hand 
when  the  surges  rise,  and  the  heavens  are 
wild  with  the  meeting  clouds.  It  is  then  he 
often  whispers  peace,  and  the  gloom  is  bro- 
ken by  gushing  radiance  from  the  rifted 
folds  of  the  tempest — and  the  melody  of  a 
purer  sphere  fills  the  sky  arching  lovingly 
life's  slumbering  sea. 


THE  greatest  events  in  human  history 
awaken  the  least  interest,  because  of  their 
"  quiet  might."  Men  look  at  startling  re- 
sults, but  lose  sight  of  the  sublime  force  of 
a  cause  which  attracted  no  eye  but  God's. 
They  behold  the  flying  timbers  and  flaming 
ruins  of  a  conflagration,  but  forget  that  the 
fearful  power  was  concealed  in  a  rising- 
spark.  A  noble  mind  is  wrecked,  and  many 
weep,  but  do  not  know  that  the  blast  which 


210  ESTHER. 

stranded  the  bark,  was  once  the  gentle 
breath  of  maternal  influence,  unhallowed 
by  piety.  So  the  splendid  career  of  a  hero 
and  patriot,  like  Mordecai,  Moses,  or  Wash- 
ington, is  less  glorious  than  the  simple  de- 
cision made  amid  the  conflicting  emotions 
of  youthful  aspiration,  to  honor  God  and 
serve  a  struggling  country. 

Jehovah  illustrates  this  principle  in  all 
his  administration.  What  to  Elijah  on  the 
solemn  mount  was  the  sweep  of  the  hurri- 
cane, rending  the  cliffs  and  tossing  rocks 
like  withered  leaves  in  air — the  thunder  of 
the  earthquake's  march — the  blinding  glow 
of  the  mantling  flame — compared  to  the 
"  still  small  voice"  that  thrilled  on  his  ear, 
so  full  of  God !  It  is  not  strange  that  there 
is  to  be  a  reckoning  for  "  idle  words"  even, 
for  they  have  shaken  the  world,  and  their 
echo  will  never  die  away. 

The  story  of  Esther,  without  an  allu- 


ESTHER.  211 

sion  to  the  fact,  is  a  most  beautiful  illustra- 
tion of  this  shaping  of  destiny  by  the  in- 
terpretation of  particular  providence,  in  the 
commonest  incidents  of  life.  His  church  is 
saved  from  extinction,  by  events  which  ap- 
pear accidental,  and  might  not  have  hap- 
pened for  anything  we  can  trace.  The 
whole  book  is  like  a  transparency  hung  be- 
fore the  pavilion  of  the  Almighty,  through 
which  his  counsels  shine,  and  his  unerring 
hand  is  visible. 

Esther  lived  quietly  with  her  kinsman 
Mordecai,  who  remained  in  Persia,  when 
many  of  the  captive  Jews,  during  the  reign 
of  Cyrus,  returned  to  their  own  land.  Ahas- 
uerus  the  king,  to  commemorate  his  victo- 
ries and  prosperous  administration,  extend- 
ing from  India  to  Ethiopia,  and  embracing  a 
hundred  and  twenty-seven  provinces,  made 
a  magnificent  festival  which  continued  six 
months.  This  was  to  display  his  power 


212  ESTHER. 

and  wealth,  before  the  nobility  of  his  realm, 
and  representatives  from  the  conquered 
provinces  of  his  spreading  empire.  At  the 
expiration  of  this  brilliant  entertainment, 
he  gave  the  common  people,  without  dis- 
tinction, a  feast  of  seven  days,  in  the  court 
of  his  palace.  The  rich  canopy  and  gor- 
geous curtains,  with  their  fastenings — the 
tall  columns,  the  golden  couches,  and  tes- 
sellated floors — are  described  as  "  white, 
green  and  blue  hangings,  fastened  with 
cords  of  fine  linen  and  purple  to  silver 
rings,  and  pillars  of  marble  :  the  beds  were 
of  gold  and  silver,  upon  a  pavement  of  red, 
and  blue,  and  black,  and  white  marble." 

Of  this  grandeur,  amid  the  ashes  strewn 
by  wasting  ages,  are  imposing  remains. 
Modern  travellers  pause  before  "  the  vast, 
solitary,  mutilated  columns  of  the  magnifi- 
cent colonnades,"  where  youth  and  beauty 
graced  the  harems  of  Persian  monarchs. 


ESTHER.   '  213 

Upon  this  occasion,  the  queen  had  a  pri- 
vate pavilion  for  her  female  guests.  But 
during  the  successive  days  of  dissipation, 
the  mirth  waxed  loud  in  the  apartments 
of  the  king.  The  flashing  goblet  circulated 
freely,  and  his  brain  became  wild  with 
"  wine  and  wassail."  As  the  crowning 
display  of  his  glory,  Vashti  in  her  jewelled 
robes  and  diadem,  must  grace  the  banquet. 
The  command  was  issued,  and  the  messen- 
ger sent.  This  mandate,  requiring  what  at 
any  time  was  contrary  to  custom,  the  ap- 
pearance of  woman,  unveiled,  in  an  as- 
semblage of  men,  now  when  revelry  and 
riot  betrayed  the  royal  intoxication,  over- 
whelmed the  queen  with  surprise.  A 
thousand  wondering  and  beaming  eyes  were 
upon  her,  during  the  brief  pause  before  an- 
swering the  summons.  Her  proud  refusal 
to  appear,  roused  the  fury  of  Ahasuerus, 
already  mad  with  excitement.  It  would 


214  '    ESTHER. 

not  answer  to  pass  by  the  indignity,  for  a 
hundred  ^and  twenty-seven  provinces  were 
represented  at  his  court,  and  the  news  of 
his  sullied  honor  would  reach  every  dwel- 
ling in  his  realm,  and  curl  the  lip  of  the  serf 
with  scorn.  The  nobles  fanned  the  flame 
of  his  indignation.  Unless  a  withering  re- 
buke were  administered,  their  authority  as 
husbands  would  be  gone,  and  the  caprice  of 
woman  make  every  family  a  scene  of  daily 
revolution. 

Vashti  was  divorced — and  to  provide  for 
the  emergency,  his  courtiers  suggested  that 
he  should  collect  in  his  harem,  all  the 
beautiful  virgins  of  the  land,  and  choose 
him  a  wife.  Among  these  was  Hadassah, 
the  adopted  daughter  of  Mordecai.  He 
urged  her  to  enter  her  name  among  the 
rivals  for  kingly  favor.  It  was  not  ambi- 
tion merely  that  moved  Mordecai.  He  had 
been  meditating  upon  the  unfolding  provi- 


ESTHER.  215 

dence  of  God  toward  his  scattered  nation, 
and  felt  that  there  was  deeper  meaning  in 
passing  events  than  the  pleasures  and  anger 
of  his  sovereign.  Arrayed  richly  as  circum- 
stances would  permit,  the  beautiful  Jewess, 
concealing  her  lineage,  joined  the  youthful 
procession  that  entered  the  audience  cham- 
ber of  Ahasuerus,  where  he  sat  in  state, 
to  look  along  the  rank  of  female  beauty, 
floating  like  a  vision  before  him. 

"  The  character  of  Esther  is  here  exhib- 
ited at  the  outset ;  for  when  she  went  into 
the  presence  of  the  king,  for  his  inspection, 
instead  of  asking  for  gifts  as  allowed  by 
him,  and  as  the  others  did,  she  took  only 
what  the  chamberlain  gave  her.  Of  exqui- 
site form  and  faultless  features,  her  rare 
beauty  at  once  captivated  the  king,  and  he 
made  her  his  wife. 

"  Mordecai  always  reminds  one  of  Ham- 
let. Of  a  noble  heart,  grand  intellect,  and 


216  ESTHER. 

unwavering  integrity,  there  was  nevertheless 
an  air  of  severity  about  him — a  haughty, 
unbending  spirit ;  which  with  his  high  sense 
of  honor,  and  scorn  of  meanness,  would 
prompt  him  to  lead  an  isolated  life.  I  have 
sometimes  thought  that  even  he  had  not 
been  able  to  resist  the  fascinations  of  his 
young  and  beautiful  cousin,  and  that  the  ef- 
fort to  conceal  his  feelings  had  given  a  great- 
er severity  to  his  manner  than  he  naturally 
possessed.  Too  noble,  however,  to  sacrifice 
such  a  beautiful  being  by  uniting  her  fate 
with  his  own,  when  a  throne  was  offered  her ; 
or  perceiving  that  the  lovely  and  gentle 
being  he  had  seen  ripen  into  faultless  woman- 
hood, could  never  return  his  love — indeed 
could  cherish  no  feeling  but  that  of  a  fond 
daughter,  he  crushed  by  his  strong  will  his 
fruitless  passion.  In  no  other  way  can  I  ac- 
count for  the  life  he  led,  lingering  forever 
around  the  palace  gates,  where  now  and  then 


ESTHER.  217 

he  might  get  a  glimpse  of  her  who  had  been 
the  light  of  his  soul,  the  one  bright  bird 
which  had  cheered  his  exile's  home.  That 
home  he  wished  no  longer  to  see,  and  day 
after  day  he  took  his  old  station  at  the  gates 
of  Shushan,  and  looked  upon  the  magnifi- 
cent walls  that  divided  him  from  all  that 
had  made  life  desirable.  It  seems  also  as 
if  some  latent  fear  that  Haman,  the  favorite 
of  the  king — younger  than  his  master  and  of 
vast  ambition,  might  attempt  to  exert  too 
great  an  influence  over  his  cousin,  must 
have  prompted  him  to  treat  the  latter  with 
disrespect,  and  refuse  him  that  homage 
which  was  his  due.  No  reason  is  given  for 
the  hostility  he  manifested,  and  which  he 
must  have  known  would  end  in  his  own 
destruction.  Whenever  Haman  with  his 
retinue  came  from  the  palace,  all  paid  him 
the  reverence  due  to  the  king's  favorite  but 
Mordecai,  who  sat  like  a  statue,  not  even 

10 


218  ESTHER. 

turning  his  head  to  notice  him.  He  acted 
like  one  tired  of  life,  and  at  length  succeeded 
in  arousing  the  deadly  hostility  of  the  haugh- 
ty minister.  The  latter  however,  scorning 
to  be  revenged  on  one  man,  and  he  a  person 
of  low  birth,  persuaded  the  king  to  decree 
the  slaughter  of  all  the  Jews  in  his  realm. 
The  news  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  on  Mor- 
decai.  Sullen,  proud,  and  indifferent  to  his 
own  fate,  he  had  defied  his  enemy  to  do  his 
worst ;  but  such  a  savage  vengeance  had 
never  entered  his  mind.  It  was  too  late  how- 
ever to  regret  his  behavior.  Right  or  wrong 
he  had  been  the  cause  of  the  bloody  sen- 
tence, and  he  roused  himself  to  avert  the 
awful  catastrophe.  With  rent  garments, 
and  sackcloth  on  his  head,  he  travelled  the 
city  with  a  loud  and  bitter  cry,  and  his  voice 
rang  even  over  the  walls  of  the  palace,  in 
tones  that  startled  its  slumbering  inmates. 
"  It  was  told  Esther,  and  she  ordered  gar- 


ESTHER.  219 

ments  to  be  given  him,  but  lie  refused  to  re- 
ceive them,  and  sent  back  a  copy  of  the 
king's  decree,  respecting  the  massacre  of 
the  Jews,  and  bade  her  go  in,  and  supplicate 
him  to  remit  the  sentence.  She  replied 
that  it  was  certain  death  to  enter  the  king's 
presence  unbidden,  unless  he  chose  to  hold 
out  his  sceptre ;  and  that  for  a  whole  month 
he  had  not  requested  to  see  her.  Her  stern 
cousin,  however,  unmoved  by  the  danger  to 
herself,  and  thinking  only  of  his  people,  re- 
plied haughtily  that  she  might  do  as  she 
(those — if  she  preferred  to  save  herself,  de- 
livery would  come  to  the  Jews  from  some 
other  quarter,  but  she  should  die. 

k'  From  this  moment  the  character  of  Es- 
ther unfolds  itself.  It  was  only  a  passing 
weakness  that  prompted  her  to  put  in  a 
word  for  her  own  life,  and  she  at  once  rose 
to  the  dignity  of  a  martyr.  The  blood  of 
the  proud  and  heroic  Mordecai  flowed  in  her 


220  ESTHER. 

veins,  and  she  said,  '  Go  tell  my  cousin  to 
assemble  all  the  Jews  in  Shushan,  and  fast 
three  days  and  three  nights,  neither  eating 
nor  drinking  ;  I  and  my  maidens  will  do  the 
same,  and  in  the  third  day  I  will  go  before 
the  king,  and  if  I  perish,  I perisli?  Noble 
and  brave  heart !  death— a  violent  death 
— is  terrible,  but  thou  art  equal  to  it ! 

"There,  in  that  magnificent  apartment, 
filled  with  perfume, — and  where  the  soften- 
ed light,  stealing  through  the  gorgeous  win- 
dows by  day,  and  shed  from  golden  lamps  by 
night  on  marble  columns  and  golden-cover- 
ed couches,  makes  a  scene  of  enchantment, 
— behold  Esther,  with  her  royal  apparel 
thrown  aside,  kneeling  on  the  tessellated 
floor.  There  she  has  been  two  days  and 
nights,  neither  eating  nor  drinking,  while 
hunger,  and  thirst,  and  mental  agony,  have 
made  fearful  inroads  on  her  beauty.  Her 
cheeks  are  sunken  and  haggard — her  large 


ESTHER.  221 

and  lustrous  eyes  dim  with,  weeping,  and  her 
lips  parched  and  dry,  yet  ever  moving  in  in- 
ward prayer.  Mental  and  physical  suffer- 
ing have  crushed  her  young  heart  within 
her,  and  now  the  hour  of  her  destiny  is  ap- 
proaching. Ah!  who  can  tell  the  despe- 
rate effort  it  required  to  prepare  for  that 
terrible  interview.  Never  before  did  it  be- 
come her  to  look  so  fascinating  as  then  ; 
and  removing  with  tremulous  anxiety  the 
traces  of  her  suffering,  she  decked  herself  in 
the  most  becoming  apparel  she  could  select. 
Her  long  black  tresses  were  never  before  so 
carefully  braided  over  her  polished  forehead, 
and  never  before  did  she  put  forth  such  an 
effort  to  enhance  every  charm,  and  make 
her  beauty  irresistible  to  the  king.  At 
length,  fully  arrayed  and  looking  more  like 
a  goddess  dropped  from  the  clouds,  than  a 
being  of  clay,  she  stole  tremblingly  towards 
the  king's  chamber.  Stopping  a  moment  at 


222  ESTHER. 

the  "threshold  to  swallow  down  the  choking 
sensation  that  almost  suffocated  her,  and  to 
gather  her  failing  strength,  she  passed  slow- 
ly into  the  room,  while  her  maidens  stood 
breathless  without,  listening,  and  waiting 
with  -the  intensest  anxiety  the  issue.  Hear- 
ing a  slight  rustling,  the  king,  with  a  sudden 
frown,  looked  up  to  see  who  was  so  sick 
of  life  as  to  dare  to  come  unbidden  in  his 
presence,  and  lo !  Esther  stood  speechless 
before  him.  Her  long  fastings  and  watch- 
ings  had  taken  the  color  from  her  cheeks, 
but  had  given  a  greater  transparency  in  its 
place,  and  as  she  stood,  half  shrinking,  with 
the  shadow  of  profound  melancholy  on  her 
pallid,  but  indescribably  beautiful  counte- 
nance, her  pencilled  brow  slightly  contracted 
in  the  intensity  of  her  excitement — her  long 
lashes  dripping  in  tears,  and  lips  trembling 
with  agitation ;  she  was — though  silent — in 
herself  an  appeal  that  a  heart  of  stone  could 


ESTHER.  223 

not  resist.  The  monarch  gazed  long  and 
silently  on  her,  as  she  stood  waiting  her 
doom.  Shall  she  die  ?  No ;  the  golden 
sceptre  slowly  rises  and  points  to  her.  The 
beautiful  intruder  is  welcome,  and  sinks 
like  a  snow-wreath  at  his  feet.  Never  be- 
fore did  the  monarch  gaze  on  such  trans- 
cendent loveliness;  and  spell-bound  and 
conquered  by  it  he  said  in  a  gentle  voice : 
«  What  wilt  thou,  Queen  Esther  ?  What 
is  thy  request  ?  it  shall  be  granted  thee, 
even  to  the  half  of  my  kingdom  /" 

"Woman-like,  she  did  not  wish  to  risk  the 
influence  she  had  suddenly  gained,  by  ask- 
ing the  destruction  of  his  favorite,  and  the 
reversion  of  his  unalterable  decreey  and  so 
she  prayed  only  that  he  and  Hainan  might 
banquet  with  her  the  next  day.  She  had 
thrown  her  fetters  over  him,  and  was  deter- 
mined to  fascinate  him  still  more  deeply  be- 
fore she  ventured  on  so  bold  a  movement. 


224  ESTHER. 

At  the  banquet  lie  again  asked  her  what 
she  desired,  for  he  well  knew  that  it  was 
no  ordinary  matter  that  had  induced  her  to 
peril  her  life  by  entering  unbidden,  his  pres- 
ence. She  invited  him  to  a  second  feast, 
and  at  that  to  a  third.  But  the  night  pre- 
vious to  the  last,  the  king  could  not  sleep, 
and  after  tossing  awhile  on  his  troubled 
couch,  he  called  for  the  record  of  the  court, 
and  there  found  that  Mordecai  had  a  short 
time  before  informed  him  through  the  queen, 
of  an  attempt  to  assassinate  him,  and  no  re- 
ward been  bestowed.  The  next  day,  there- 
fore, he  made  Hainan  perform  the  humili- 
ating office  of  leading  his  enemy  in  triumph 
through  the  streets,  proclaiming  before  him, 
"  This  is  the  man  whom  the  king  delighteth 
to  honor."  As  he  passed  by  the  gallows 
he  had  the  day  before  erected  for  that  very 
man,  a  shudder  crept  through  his  frame,  and 
the  first  omen  of  coming  evil  cast  its  shadow 
on  his  spirit. 


ESTHER.  225 

"The  way  was  now  clear  to  Esther,  and 
so  the  next  day,  at  the  banquet,  as  the  king 
repeated  his  former  offer,  she,  reclining  on 
the  couch,  her  chiselled  form  and  ravishing 
beauty  inflaming  the  ardent  monarch  with 
love  and  desire,  said  in  pleading  accents,  "  I 
ask,  O  king,  for  my  life,  and  that  of  my  peo- 
ple. If  we  had  all  been  sold  as  bondmen 
and  bondwomen,  I  had  held  my  tongue, 
great  as  the  evil  would  have  been  to  thee." 
The  king  started,  as  if  stung  by  an  adder, 
and  with  a  brow  dark  as  wrath,  and  a  voice 
that  sent  Haman  to  his  feet,  exclaimed: 
"Thy  life  !  my  queen  ?  WJio  is  he  ?  where 
is  he  that  dare  even  think  such  a  thought 
in  his  heart  ?"  He  who  strikes  at  thy  life, 
radiant  creature,  plants  his  presumptuous 
blow  on  his  monarch's  bosom.  "That  Irian" 
said  the  lovely  pleader,  "  is  the  wicked  Ha- 
inan" Darting  one  look  of  vengeance  on 

the  petrified  favorite,  he  strode  forth  into 
10* 


226  ESTHER. 

the  garden  to  control  his  boiling  passions. 
Hainan  saw  at  once  that  his  only  hope  now 
was,  in  moving  the  sympathies  of  the  queen 
in  his  behalf;  and  approaching  her,  he  be- 
gan to  plead  most  piteously  for  his  life.  In 
his  agony  he  fell  on  the  couch  where  she 
lay,  and  while  in  this  position,  the  king  re- 
turned. '  What !'  he  exclaimed,  '  will  he 
violate  the  queen  here  in  my  own  palace !' 
Nothing  more  was  said :  no  order  was  giv- 
en. The  look  and  voice  of  .terrible  wrath 
in  which  this  was  said,  were  sufficient. 
The  attendants  simply  spread  a  cloth  over 
Hainan's  face,  and  not  a  word  was  spoken. 
Those  who  came  in,  when  they  saw  the  cov- 
ered countenance,  knew  the  import.  It  was 
the  sentence  of  death.  The  vaunting  favor- 

o 

ite  himself  dare  not  remove  it — he  must  die, 
and  the  quicker  the  agony  is  over,  the  bet- 
ter. In  a  few  hours  he  was  swinging  on 
the  gallows  he  had  erected  for  Mordecai. 


ESTHER.  227 

"After  this,  the  queen's  power  was  su- 
preme— everything  she  asked  was  granted. 
To  please  her,  he  let  his  palace  flow  in  the 
blood  of  five  hundred  of  his  subjects,  whom 
the  Jews  slew  in  self-defence.  For  her  he 
hung  Hainan's  ten  sons  on  the  gallows/ 
where  the  father  had  suffered  before  them. 
For  her  he  made  Mordecai  prime  minister, 
and  lavished  boundless  favors  on  the  hither- 
to oppressed  Hebrews.  And  right  worthy 
was  she  of  all  he  did  for  her.  Lovely  in 
character  as  she  was  in  person,  her  sudden 
elevation  did  not  make  her  vain,  nor  her 
power  haughty.  The  same  gentle,  pure, 
and  noble  creature  when  queen,  as  when 
living  in  the  lowly  habitation  of  her  cousin 
—generous,  disinterested,  and  ready  to  die 
for  others,  she  is  one  of  the  loveliest  char- 
acters furnished  in  the  annals  of  history." 

After  Esther,  in  the  changing  fortunes  of 
Israel,  till  the  Saviour's  advent,  but  little 


225  ESTHER. 

reference  is  made  to  woman.  The  wife  of 
Job,  unsubdued  by  the  terrible  calamity 
that  swept  away  her  fortune  and  children, 
was  his  tempter  in  the  darkest  hour  of  his 
affliction.  David,  in  his  Psalms  of  surpri- 
sing sweetness  and  sublimity,  alludes  to  the 
virtues  of  "mothers  in  Israel" — and  Sol- 
omon graphically  delineates  the  character 
of  the  wife  who  "  is  from  God."  The  pro- 
phets, in  their  lofty  strains  of  prediction, 
and  warning,  and  encouragement,  make 
mention  of  her  mission  in  coming  scenes — 
her  sufferings  in  national  distress,  when  off- 
spring shall  clasp  their  parental  knees  in  the 
agony  of  famine,  "  and  pour  out  their  souls 
in  their  mother's  bosom."  With  rapture 
they  follow  her  angel  form  in  the  rising  glory 
of  Zion — the  mystery  of  redemption,  and 
the  approaching  peace  of  millennial  rest, 
when  the  harmonies  of  earth  shall  blend 
once  more  with  the  melodies  of  Heaven ! 


FKOM  the  single  promise  that  sent  a  i  ay 
of  hope  through  the  gloom  of  man's  forsa- 
ken spirit  in  paradise,  falling  as  the  return- 
ing smile  of  God  on  nature  reeling  under  his 
curse,  to  the  last  message  of  a  dying  prophet, 
the  whole  tide  of  events  converged  toward 
agr  and  consummation ;  a  full  manifestation 
of  the  grace  which  suspended  the  penalty  > 
of  violated  law.  "  God  put  forth  his  agen- 
cies, and  calmly  waited  four  thousand  years 


230  ELIZABETH. 

for  tlie  accomplishment  of  his  designs  of 
mercy." 

It  was  a  faint  spreading  of  dawn  that 
cheered  the  pathway  of  Eve ;  but  the  in- 
creasing radiance  gilded  the  horizon  of  Pal- 
estine, bathing  the  heights  on  which  the 
seers  bowed  in  rapture,  till  last  of  all  Mala- 
chi  poured  forth  his  impassioned  eloquence 
against  Israel,  and  slept  with  his  fathers. 

Then  followed  four  hundred  years  of 
trial  and  struggle ;  the  people  could  only 
look  back  on  the  long  track  of  wandering, 
rebuke  and  concentrating  light  pointing  on- 
ward to  a  future  whose  shadows  were  lift- 
ing, and  thus  become  able  to  bear  the  com- 
ing sun,  and  welcome  its  illumination. 

Among  those  who  were  expecting  a  sub- 
lime manifestation  of  love  in  the  advent  of 
Messiah,  was  Zacharias,  a  venerable  priest 
at  Jerusalem,  whose  wife,  a  descendant  of 
Aaron,  was  a  woman  of  elevated  piety. 


ELIZABETR  231 

They  were  now  aged  and  childless.  One 
evening  as  the  fading  light  burnished  the 
temple-columns,  and  streamed  through  the 
lofty  windows  upon  the  Mercy  Seat,  the 
Cherubim  overshadowing  it,  and  the  golden 
altar,  he  passed  thoughtfully  through  the 
multitude  that  crowded  the  gates  of  the 
sacred  structure.  His  form  disappeared  in 
the  Holy  Place,  and  arrayed  in  his  sacerdo- 
tal robes,  he  stood  before  the  altar  of  incense, 
while  the  throng  pressed  into  the  porch 
to  worship.  Their  prayer  arose  like  the 
murmur  of  the  ocean,  but  he  was  all  alone  by 
the  flame  of  sacrifice,  interceding  for  them. 
Suddenly  he  heard  the  rustling  of  wings, 
and  on  the  oblation  there  came  a  glow  more 
intense  than  the  fire  of  his  offering,  and  by 
his  side  he  beheld  an  angel  of  the  Lord  in 
white  apparel,  with  his  face  of  celestial 
beauty  beaming  full  upon  him.  He  was 
troubled,  and  trembling  with  alarm  would 


232  ELIZABETH. 

have  shrunk  away  from  the  presence  of 
Gabriel,  but  the  tones  of  his  gentle  voice 
dispelled  the  rising  fear,  and  he  restored  the 
calmness  of  faith.  He  listened  with  doubt- 
ing surprise  to  the  tidings,  "  Thy  wife  Eliz- 
abeth shall  bear  thee  a  son."  Ah !  he  had 
prayed  for  the  blessing  in  former  years,  and 
cherished  the  hope  until  it  turned  to  ashes 
in  his  sad  heart,  while  Elizabeth  had  made 
supplication  till  prayer  seemed  a  mockery. 
He  could  not  believe  without  a  miraculous 
token,  and  this  was  added.  But  it  was  as 
though  the  offending  lips  were  smitten  by 
an  unseen  hand,  for  the  angel  left  him  speecli- 
less,  and  returned  to  the  throne  of  God. 

Zacharias  turned  away  from  the  dying 
flame  of  his  offering,  and  waving  his  hand 
to  the  people  who  had  wondered  at  his 
long  absence,  went  in  silence  to  his  dwel- 
ling. Elizabeth  could  not  doubt  the  fulfil- 
ment of  a  promise  which  was  expressed 


ELIZABETH.  233 

in  tears  and  voiceless  sighs,  themselves  a 
warning,  not  to  limit  the  power  of  the  In- 
finite One. 

And  then  it  was  her  pleasant  employment 
to  beguile  the  loneliness  of  her  husband, 
who  for  her  sake  wore  the  seal  of  divine 
displeasure  with  cheerful  piety,  and  affec- 
tion which  flowed  with  new  and  gathering 
strength  in  the  deeper  channel  of  maternal 
solicitude  for  a  son  connected  with  whose 
birth  was  "  so  exceeding  great  and  precious 
promises." 

But  the  scenes  of  that  home  are  unre- 
corded, excepting  a  visit  from  her  cousin 
Mary,  the  mother  of  Christ ;  an  interview 
inexpressibly  solemn  and  touching.  The 
Holy  Ghost  was  the  companion  of  Eliza- 
beth, and  Mary  carried  a  treasure  which 
was  the  theme  of  ceaseless  halleluiahs  in 
Heaven.  There  was  no  jealousy,  no  glory- 
ing but  in  the  Lord. 


234  ELIZABETH. 

The  salutation  which  welcomed  the  vir- 
gin indicates  both  humility  of  spirit  and  the 
strength  of  natural  love ;  "  And  whence  is 
it  that  the  mother  of  my  Lord  should  come 
to  me  ?"  Mary  replied  in  a  devotional 
rhapsody,  to  Him  who  "  putteth  down  the 
mighty  in  their  seats,  and  exalteth  them  of 
low  degree."  Three  months  were  passed 
in  delightful  companionship.  Their  long 
conversations  concerning  "  the  consolation 
of  Israel" — their  hours  of  prayer  around 
the  domestic  altar — their  deep  study  of 
prophecy  with  the  mute  and  subdued  Zach- 
arias,  have  no  place  in  the  memorials  of 
earth ;  for  none  cared  for  these  while  tran- 
spiring in  the  "  hill  country  of  Juda." 

The  streets  of  Jerusalem  echoed  the 
tramp  of  Roman  soldiery,  and  the  haughty 
Pharisees  swept  the  pavement  with  their 
phylactered  robes  of  ceremonial  sanctity. 
The  busy  world  moved  thoughtlessly  on 


ELIZABETH.  235 

around  these  solitary  women,  while  angels 
were  on  the  wing  for  their  protection,  and 
if  their  safety  required  it,  a  chariot  of  fire 
would  have  descended  to  the  green  summits 
that  girded  the  city.  At  length  Mary 
sought  again  the  retirement  of  her  own  habi- 
tation, and  Elizabeth  gave  birth  to  a  son. 
Amid  the  rejoicings  of  friends,  the  child 
was  named  Zacharias  after  his  father.  His 
mother  insisted  on  calling  him  John,  accord- 
ins:  to  Gabriel's  command.  The  matter 

o 

was  then  referred  to  the  aged  and  silent 
priest  who  was  looking  on  ;  and  he  wrote 
with  a  stile  on  the  waxen  table,  "  He  shall 
be  called  John."  The  people  were  amazed 
at  this  deviation  from  national  custom. 
While  gazing  inquiringly  upon  him,  his 
speech  was  restored,  and  he  praised  God 
until  his  humble  dwelling  seemed  bursting 
with  the  swelling  anthem.  Then  followed 
a  burning  strain  of  prophecy,  running  from 


236  ELIZABElfe. 

the  earliest  predictions  of  Messiah,  to  the 
gathering  of  the  Gentiles  under  his  glory, 
mounting  upward  to  "  the  rest  which  re- 
mains for  the  people  of  God." 

The  boyhood  of  John  is  mentioned  no  far- 
ther than  that  "  he  grew  and  waxed  strong 
in  spirit,"  but  beneath  his  supernatural  en- 
dowments and  the  greatness  of  his  heraldic 
career,  the  maternal  influence  is  clearly  dis- 
cernible in  his  lofty  character.  It  is  trace- 
able as  the  waters  of  a  stream  by  the  lines  of 
their  coloring,  long  after  they  have  entered 
the  sea.  Y»7e  need  no  farther  testimony  that 
he  neither  had  nor  needed  the  angel  of  tra- 
dition to  guard  his  early  slumbers  and  guide 
his  juvenile  feet,  than  the  saintly  and  gifted 
Elizabeth.  He  repeated  the  sentiments 
and  nearly  the  language  of  that  mother 
when  he  saw  the  majestic  form  of  Jesus  ap- 
proaching him  for  baptism — "  coniest  thou 
to  me  ?"  Her  joy  as  a  mother  was  lost  in 


ELIZABETH.  237 

that  of  his  sacred  mission,  as  tlie  Saviour's 
herald  awakened ;  so  John  exclaimed  when 
he  saw  and-  listened  to  Christ,  "  This  my 
joy  is  fulfilled." 

In  all  his  ministry,  it  is  beautifully  mani- 
fest "  that  this  '  burning  and  shining  light' 
was  kindled  under  the  maternal  wing  at 
Hebron,  as  well  as  fanned  into  brilliancy 
by  the  wings  of  inspiration  in  the  wilder- 
ness, that  it  might  be  a  herald-star  of  the 
Sun  of  Kighteousness." 


GABRIEL  figures  so  conspicuously  in  ce- 
lestial vision,  that  the  mind  naturally  takes 
the  impression,  he  is  a  favorite  angel  in 
the  erpbassage  of  Heaven  to  earth.  He  ap- 
peared twice  to  Daniel — talked  with  Zach- 
arias  while  engaged  in  the  temple  ser- 
vice at  evening,  and  not  long  afterward, 
"  was  sent  from  God  to  a  city  of  Galilee, 
named  Nazareth,"  to  Mary.  When  he  en- 
tered her  lonely  dwelling,  he  shouted  in  the 


240  THE   VIRGIN  MARY. 

transport  of  Ms  own  full  heart,  "  Hail  tliou 
that  art  highly  favored,  the  Lord,  is  with 
thee :  blessed  art  thou  among  women !" 
That  bright  form,  and  the  startling  saluta- 
tion excited  her  fears,  and  she  waited  trem- 
blingly for  a  farther  disclosure.  "  Fear 
not,  Mary,"  broke  the  silence  and  suspense 
of  the  scene,  and  in  glowing  language  he 
announced  to  her  the  honor  which  could  be 
sdven  to  but  one  woman  in  the  universe — 

o 

that  of  becoming  the  mother  of  "  the  Lord 
of  Glory,  the  Prince  of  peace,"  in  his  hu- 
manity. 

And  here  Mary  forms  a  sublime  contrast 
with  Sarah  and  even  the  good  old  Zacha- 
rias,  when  visited  by  angels.  There  was 
no  utterance  of  unbelief,  no  smile  of  incre- 
dulity, althpugh  there  seemed  to  be  an  im- 
possibility of  fulfilment,  without  sinking 
hopelessly  her  reputation,  and  perhaps  her 
untimely  removal  to  a  grave  of  infamy. 


THE   VIRGIN  MARY.  241 

For  she  was  betrothed  to  Joseph,  a  worthy 
young  man,  and  the  appearance  of  infidelity 
would  alienate  him  and  expose  her  to  the 
penalty  of  violated  Law.  Her  sensitive 
spirit  simply  inquired,  "How  shall  this 
be  ?"  and  Gabriel  replied,  "  The  Holy  Ghost 
shall  come  upon  thee,  and  the  power  of  the 
Highest  shall  overshadow  thee,  and  the 
holy  thing  which  shall  be  born  of  thee  shall 
be  called  the  Son  of  God :  For  with  God 
nothing  shall  be  impossible."  All  was  yet 
folded  in  mystery — like  one  entering  the 
"  dark  valley,"  she  could  lean  alone  on  the 
Almighty,  and  walk  trustingly  under  the 
cover  of  his  wings. 

Never  in  Heaven  or  in  time,  was  there 
sweeter  resignation — a  more  hopeful  conse- 
cration amid  unexplained  difficulties,  deep 
as  human  degradation,  and  wonders  rising 
like  vast  shadows  to  the  "  clouds  and  dark- 
ness that  environ  the  Throne."  Fixing 
11 


242  THE  VIRGIN  MARY. 

her  gentle  eye  on  the  angel,  she  said,  "  Be- 
hold the  handmaid  of  the  Lord ;  be  it 
unto  me  according  to  thy  word."  There 
was  a  solemn  stillness  of  that  maiden's 
heart,  and  a  thrill  of  unutterable  joy  when 
the  struggle  was  over,  and  she  felt  that  her 
destiny  was  so  nearly  linked  with  the  pre- 
dicted Messiah.  And  as  Gabriel  departed 
from  her  for  the  skies,  his  last  look  toward 
the  kneeling  virgin,  must  have  been  full  of 
tenderness  and  admiring  love.  We  know 
not  the  interest  and  the  high  converse  in 
glory  as  often  as  the  messenger  re-entered 
the  unfolding  gates,  and  repeated  to  the  ser- 
aphim the  story  of  his  mission — then  swept 
his  lyre  and  sang  "  Alleluiah !"  But 
Avhat  a  murmur  of  wonder,  and  strange 
suspense  passed  over  that  throng,  when 
their  King  laid  down  his  sceptre,  and  his 
crown,  and  putting  off  the  unsullied  robes 
he  had  worn  before  a  worshipper  bowed  at 


THE   VIRGIN  MARY.  243 

Ms  feet,  deserted  the  burning  Throne  for 
the  form  of  Mary,  and  the  helplessness  of 
infancy  in  a  world  of  enemies,  and  of  gloom. 

Mary  was  bewildered  with  the  strange 
and  crowding  events  of  her  hitherto  quiet 
life  in  Nazareth,  and  turned  her  sympathy 
to  her  cousin  Elizabeth,  who  was  mature  in 
holy  experience,  and,  as  the  angel  had  said, 
soon  to  be  the  mother  of  Messiah's  gifted 
herald — breaking  the  silence  of  centuries 
by  the  "  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilder- 
ness, prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Lord !" 
She  received  a  joyful  welcome — and  the 
months  passed  on,  to  those  humble  dwel- 
lers in  Hebron,  with  the  solemn  march  of 
ages — for  four  thousand  years  flung  their 
light  and  shadow  upon  them  ;  they  closed 
the  long  drama  of  preparation,  and  opened 
upon  the  world  the  glories  of  a  new  life, 
"  and  immortality." 

And  now  came  Joseph's  trial.    When  he 


244  THE  VIRGIN  MART. 

perceived  that  Mary  would  be  a  mother, 
his  first  thought  was  to  set  aside  tl^  en- 
gagement, and  leave  her  without  exposure, 
to  seclusion.  But  while  hesitating  amid  the 
conflicting  emotions  exerted  by  his  affection, 
which  clung  to  apparently  an  unworthy  ob- 
ject, and  his  honor  involved  in  the  result, 
Gabriel  came  to  him  in  his  restless  slum- 
bers and  bade  him  dismiss  his  fears,  and  as 
a  son  of  David,  in  accordance  with  proph- 
ecy, become  the  reputed  father  of  Emanuel. 
Joseph  arose  from  his  repose,  and  with  re- 
stored confidence  and  love,  sought  Mary 
and  made  her  his  wife. 

Here  the  infidel  may  curl  his  impious 
lip,  and  in  the  affected  majesty  of  reason 
and  purity,  lift  his  hand  to  blot  out  the  hope 
of  a  weeping  world ;  but  not  until  he  can 
stay  the  woful  ravages  of  sin,  hush  the  cry 
of  the  soul  for  a  Redeemer,  and  offer  rest  to 
the  weary  and  sorrowing,  can  he  mantle 


THE  VIRGIN  MARY.  245 

with  shame  these  touching  miracles,  that 
heralded  the  advent  of  "  God  manifest  in 
the  flesh." 

"  Actions  are  the  glorious  oratory  of 
God  !"  and  he  speaks  more  eloquently  and 
loudly  in  the  incidents  on  which  he  hinges 
his  designs,  than  in  the  roll  of  all  his  gath- 
ered thunders,  or  the  roar  of  ocean  rising 
in  wrath  at  his  whisper. 

The  Roman  Emperor  Augustus,  just  at 
this  time,  after  a  delay  of  twenty  years,  com- 
manded that  a  census  of  the  population  of 
his  vast  empire  be  taken,  and  "  each  person 
be  enrolled  in  the  chief  city  of  his  family  or 
tribe."  This  edict  sent  Mary  and  her  hus- 
band to  Bethlehem,  the  capital  of  the  Da- 
vidic  family. 

Upon  their  arrival,  the  inns  were  full, 
and  no  place  offered  them  but  a  manger, 
among  the  beasts  of  the  stall.  The  night 
came  do\vn,  and  the  hum  of  the  little  city 


246  THE  VIRGIN  MARY. 

ceased — the  money-changers  slept  in  their 
goodly  dwellings,  and  even  the  shelterless 
found  rest  beneath  the  mild  sky  of  Judea. 
Peace  brooded  over  the  earth  from  whose 
bosom  contending  armies  had  retired — the 
preparatory  work  was  finished ; — the  still 
hour  of  midnight  came  on,  and  the  friend- 
less Mary  gave  birth  to  a  SAVIOUE  ! 

On  the  slopes  of  surrounding  hills,  shep- 
herds kept  the  nightly  watch  of  their  folded 
flocks.  They  sat  in  musing  mood,  or  gaz- 
ing at  the  flashing  spheres  above,  when 
the  air  grew  luminous  about  them,  and  an 
Angel  swept  down  the  starry  road  in  a  flood 
of  radiance  that  streamed  from  the  opening 
sky,  till  the  green  pastures  glowed  like  the 
very  pavement  of  Heaven,  and  the  faces 
of  those  watchers  were  white  as  marble, 
while  they  shook  like  Belteshazzar  before 
the  mystic  hand  that  wrote  his  doom. 

This  angel,  doubtless  Gabriel,  who  said 


THE  VIRGIN  MARY.  247 

to  Mary,  "Fear  not,"  with  the  same  lan- 
guage broke  the  silence,  and  Vith  the 
"  Good  tidings  of  great  joy"  upon  his  lips, 
pointing  to  Bethlehem  which  lay  in  the 
shadow  of  distance,  told  the  wandering 
shepherds  they  would  "  Find  the  babe 
wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes,  and  lying 
in  a  manger."  Then  suddenly  a  multitude 
of  the  heavenly  host  thronged  the  illumined 
sky,  and  poured  their  melody  along  the  hills 
until  they  took  up  the  swelling  anthem  and 
sent  it  back  to  the  "Eternal  City,"  and 
then  again  with  the  new  notes  of  gratula- 
tion  the  song  of  jubilee  rolled  down  upon 
the  brightening  summits. 

It  is  not  strange,  that  the  sinless  choir 
who  had  sung  together  with  "  the  morning 
stars"  when  the  world  hung  in  unmarred 
perfection,  in  the  dawn  of  creation,  and 
who  walked  in  the  beautiful  garden — who 
held  their  harps  in  sadness  when  the  frown 


248  THE  VIRGIN  MART. 

of  God  darkened  upon  the  sphere,  he  pro- 
nounced "  very  good,"  and  his  curse  with- 
ered even  the  flowers  upon  its  scathed  and 
riven  bosom,  while  the  centuries  wore 
away  amid  tears  and  blasphemy  ;  that  they 
should  strain  every  string,  and  in  their  lof- 
tiest harmonies,  lift  the  halleluiah  "  Glory 
to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth,  peace 
and  good  will  toward  men." 

Those  glittering  ranks  returned  to  Para- 
dise, and  the  melody  died  away  on  the  ear 
of  the  shepherds  hastening  to  Bethlehem. 
They  bent  adoringly  over  the  child,  and  re- 
peated the  burden  of  that  song.  Mary,  medi- 
tative and  retiring,  silently  pondered  the 
marvellous  sayings  that  flew  with  the  morn- 
ing light  from  lip  to  lip  of  the  gathering 
crowd.  Sh&named  the  infant  JESUS,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  Mosaic  ritual,  passed  the  days 
of  symbolical  purification,  and  went  up  to  the 
Temple  with  her  sacrifice  of  turtle-doves. 


THE   VIRGIN  MARY.  249 

Here  she  found  aged  Simeon,  waiting  for 
"  the  consolation  of  Israel,"  and  filled  with 
the  Holy  Ghost,  he  took  the  babe  in  his  arms, 
and  raising  his  fading  eyes  toward  Heaven 
he  "  blessed  God,  and  said,  Lord,  now  lettest 
thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace." 

He  spoke  of  the  Saviour's  mission  in  a 
higher  sense  than  Joseph  or  Mary  could 
understand,  and  turning  to  her,  alluded  to 
"  the  contradiction  of  sinners"  that  Son 
would  endure,  and  to  his  fearful  martyr- 
dom, in  words  although  dimly  apprehended, 
that  must  have  conveyed  a  mournful  mean- 
ing to  her  anxious  heart,  "Yea  a  sword 
shall  pierce  through  thy  soul  also."  Anna, 
a  prophetess  eighty  years  old,  also  came  in 
and  joined  Simeon  in  his  devout  ascription. 
And  the  infant  Christ  understood  it  all, 
and  needing  not  the  homage  of  men  or  of 
angels,  he  permitted  Mary  to  caress  him 
as  fondly  as  ever  a  mother  clasped  the  treas. 

19* 


250  THE  VIRGIN  MARY. 

ure  of  offspring  to  her  breast.  "  One  would 
like  if  he  could,  to  lift  the  veil  that  hangs 
over  the  experience  of  Mary ;  and  to  learn 
of  her  who  had  the  maternal  care  and  guid- 
ance of  the  holy  child  Jesus  ;  and  to  know 
what  was  the  precise  complexion  of  that 
moral  dawn,  which  preceded  the  pure  and 
perfect  effulgence  that  shone  forth  on  the 
history  of  his  riper  years  ;  and  to  be  told 
how  richly  all  her  tenderness  was  repaid,  by 
smiles  more  lovely  than  ever  before  played 
on  the  infant  countenance,  and  in  his  hours 
of  anguish  by  such  calm  and  unruffled  se- 
rene as  not  one  cry  of  impatience,  and  one 
moment  of  fretfulness,  ever  broke  in  upon." 
During  the  stay  at  Bethlehem,  the  magi, 
led  by  a  star,  journeyed  from  the  East  to 
Jerusalem,  inquiring  for  the  Messiah,  of 
whose  predicted  appearance  they  had  heard 
from  travelling  Jews.  Thence  visiting  the 
infant  Saviour,  they  offered  with  their  horn- 


THE   VIRGIN  MART.  251 

age,  the  frankincense  of  Araby,  and  gifts 
of  gold.  Disregarding  Herod's  command  to 
bring  him  word  if  Christ  were  found,  they 
returned  by  another  way.  Herod,  a  san- 
guinary and  heartless  tyrant,  was  enraged 
at  the  insult,  and  commanded  the  slaughter 
of  innocents,  to  destroy  the  future  "  King  of 
the  Jews."  Oh !  who  can  tell  Mary's  grief 
as  their  wail  fell  on  her  ear,  and  her  agony  of 
fear  while  flying  from  the  dripping  sword, 
to  a  strange  land  ? 

Upon  the  death  of  the  royal  infanticide, 
the  hunted  family  retired  again  to  Naza- 
reth, their  old  place  of  residence.  There 
Mary  lived  quietly,  while  Jesus  grew  up  to 
youth,  "  waxing  strong  in  spirit,  and  filled 
with  wisdom."  And  who  can  doubt  that 
in  his  humanity  under  the  training  of  so 
pure  a  mother,  whose  intellectual  power 
was  exhibited  in  her  splendid  magnificat 
when  she  met  Elizabeth,  he  was  regarded  as 


252  THE  VIRGIN  MARY. 

a  rare  example  of  early  piety,  and  that  mo- 
ther was  the  more  admired  and  loved  for  the 
Son's  sake.  His  manner  always  amiable — 
his  language  never  breathing  an  unhallowed 
thought,  or  wayward  impulse,  or  even  the 
levity  of  juvenile  pastimes,  could  not  fail 
to  impress  his  companions,  and  win  their 
warmest  affection,  and  the  admiration  of 
the  Nazarines  who  frequented  the  lowly 
habitation  of  Joseph.  When  he  was  twelve 
years  old,  the  family  went,  according  to  na- 
tional custom,  to  the  Holy  City  to  keep  the 
annual  festival  of  the  Passover.  They  wor- 
shipped with  wonted  solemnity,  and  offered 
their  oblations. 

Returning  in  company  with  others  to 
their  own  country,  they  had  journeyed  all 
day  from  Jerusalem  without  missing  the 
Saviour,  who  unobserved  went  back  to  the 
Temple.  The  parents  were  troubled,  and 
hastened  to  seek  for  the  lost  one  in  the 


THE   VIRGIN  MART.  253 

streets  of  the  crowded  city.  After  three 
days  of  fruitless  effort,  at  last  they  entered 
the  consecrated  edifice,  where  lingered  the 
proud  Pharisee,  and  the  strangers  who  came 
to  admire  the  splendid  sanctuary  of  the 
Most  High.  And  there,  in  the  midst  of  ven- 
erable doctors,  with  the  open  Law  and 
Prophets  before  them,  sat  Jesus,  silencing 
their  wise  interpretations,  by  his  greater 
wisdom.  The  sight  amazed  his  weary 
and  anxious  parents,  to  whom  there  evi- 
dently seemed  a  change  in  his  docile  nature, 
distinguished  for  obedience,  which  ever  be- 
fore anticipated  their  request.  There  is  a 
tone  of  rebuke  in  Mary's  questioning,  which 
has  all  the  fulness  of  a  mother's  love — 
"  Son,  why  hast  thou  thus  dealt  with  us  ? 
behold  thy  father  and  I  have  sought  thee 
sorrowing."  His  reply  was  the  first  hint 
of  Divine  commission  and  Deity  to  them 
— "Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  go  about 


254  THE  VIRGIN  MARY. 

my  Father's  business?"  This  was  above 
their  comprehension,  for  they  had  regarded 
him  simply  as  Messiah — appointed  by  Je- 
hovah, and  committed  to  their  care  for  the 
deliverance  from  Roman  dominion,  of  their 
captive  nation. 

But  Mary  was  deeply  and  devoutly  con- 
templative. Jesus  went  with  them  to  Naz- 
areth, and  was  again  a  beautiful  example 
of  subjection,  while  she  dwelt  in  earnest 
thought,  upon  the  import  of  his  words,  and 
the  God-like  spirituality  of  his  life.  In  the 
maturity  of  youth,  he  entered  on  his  work, 
but  did  not  forget  his  mother.  And  soon 
after,  we  find  them  with  the  disciples  at  a 
marriage  festival  in  Cana,  where  the  Sa- 
viour evidently  mingled  with  his  friends  in 
the  cheerful  intercourse  of  such  an  occasion. 

From  some  oversight  or  want  of  means, 
there  was  no  wine  for  the  guests.  Mary 
had  witnessed  miracles  enough  to  know 


THE  VIRGIN  MART.  255 

his  word  could  supply  them — and  calling 
him  aside,  suggested  the  exercise  of  his  pow- 
er. His  answer  to  the  superficial  readers 
of  the  narration  seems  harsh — "  Woman, 
what  have  I  to  do  with  thee,  mine  hour  is 
not  yet  come."  But  the  form  of  address 
was  common,  and  perfectly  respectful.  It 
is  as  if  he  had  said,  while  his  beaming  eye 
and  benign  countenance  were  eloquent  with 
affection,  "  Mother,  why  anticipate  and  di- 
rect in  my  designs — I  know  my  mission 
and  every  step  of  its  fulfilment."  Mary 
evidently  became  weary  of  travel  in  follow- 
ing her  Son,  and  would  have  him  retire 
from  his  public  activity ;  for  while  he  was  in 
the  synagogue  at  Capernaum,  she  waited 
at  the  door,  while  a  messenger  called  him. 
The  result  of  the  entreaty  is  not  recorded, 
but  he  tenderly  employed  the  incident  to 
express  his  higher  and  living  union  with  his 
people — that  relation  which  should  abide, 


256  THE  VIRGIN  MART. 

when  human  associations  have  vanished, 
and  "  earth,  like  a  pebble,  is  sunk  in  the 
ocean  of  a  past  eternity." 

She  was  in  the  train  that  accompanied 
the  Saviour  to  Jerusalem,  before  his  mar- 
tyrdom— but  all  unconscious  of  the  weight 
of  sorrow  under  which  his  mighty  heart 
was  sinking. 

We  do  not  know  where  she  was  when 
the  stars  looked  down  upon  his  wrestling 
in  Gethsemane,  while  the  crimson  dew  of 
his  agony  started  from  every  pore — when 
he  received  unresistingly  the  traitor's  kiss, 
and  high-priest's  buffeting — when  in  the 
hall,  where  justice  was  a  mockery,  and  in- 
sult the  sentence  of  condemnation — and 
when  he  bore  up  the  rugged  summit  the 
instrument  of  torture,  till  crushed  by  its 
weight — but  we  find  that  mother  beside  the 
Cross,  while  the  warm  blood  was  gushing 
from  the  sacred  form  she  cradled  in  infancy, 


THE  VIRGIN  MARY.  257 

and  without  a  cheering  voice,  he  trod  the 
•wine-press  of  his  Father's  wrath.  She  be- 
held the  drooping  head — the  brow  wrung 
with  anguish,  and  the  quivering  lips.  She 
listened  to  the  cry,  while  hell  was  in  sus- 
pense, and  Heaven  bent  with  wonder  over 
the  scene,  "  My  God !  My  God !  why  hast 
thou  forsaken  me  ?" 

Mary  could  offer  no  relief,  and  her  ma- 
ternal solicitude  would  not  permit  a  with- 
drawal from  the  Mount  of  Crucifixion. 
Oh  !  the  suffering  of  that  loving  spirit,  when 
not  only  her  Son  was  expiring  in  unuttera- 
ble agonies,  but  the  hope  of  his  followers, 
was  going  out  in  rayless  midnight.  By  her 
side  was  the  youthful  John,  sympathizing 
with  his  Master,  and  weeping  with  Mary. 
The  eye  of  the  Sufferer,  though  the  penalty 
of  eternal  Law  was  tearing  its  way  through 
his  sinless  bosom,  and  he  sustained  alone 
a  world's  redemption,  rested  upon  her  he 


258  THE  VIRGIN  MARY. 

loved  before  lie  took  up  his  abode  with  her ; 
and  pointing  to  John,  he  said  with  dying 
affection,  "  Woman,  behold  thy  Son  !" 

Those  accents  and  that  last  look  express- 
ed it  all.  It  was  saying  amid  the  throes  of 
agony  unknown,  to  man,  "  My  mother,  I 
must  leave  you,  but  he  shall  cheer  your 
mournful  years — give  him  my  place  as  son, 
in  your  holy  love."  Turning  to  the  Belov- 
ed Disciple,  he  said,  "  Behold  thy  mother !" 
It  would  seem  from  the  words  "  that  very 
hour,"  that  John  immediately  obeyed,  and 
induced  her  to  leave  the  scene  of  deepening 
and  accumulating  horrors. 

Who  could  fathom  her  grief  when  she 
heard  of  that  death  amid  taunts  and  sneers, 
the  rocking  earth  and  blackening  skies ; 
and  finally  of  his  unattended  burial.  And 
oh !  how  her  drooping  spirit  smiled  out 
through  tears  of  joy,  when  the  news  of  his 


THE  VIRGIN  MARY.  259 

resurrection  spread,  and  once  more  she  be- 
held the  immaculate  Jesus ! 

We  next  hear  of  Mary  when  returning 
from  Mount  Olivet,  from  whose  shining  top 
the  Saviour  ascended  to  the  Throne  of  his 
Glory  in  a  chariot  of  cloud,  the  disciples 
joined  the  circle  of  prayer  in  the  "  upper 
room"  at  Jerusalem.  She  was  there  be- 
fore the  Mercy  Seat,  drawn  thither  by  the 
clearer  rays  of  Divinity  from  the  Son  of 
God,  that  taught  her  how  to  pray. 

That  Mary  was  a  maiden  of  remarkable 
loveliness,  is  inferable  from  her  selection  by 
Jehovah  as  the  mother  of  his  "  Only-begot- 
ten and  well-beloved  Son."  Her  maternal 
character  is  without  a  blemish ; — "  Blessed 
art  thou  among  women!"  is  the  epitaph 
every  devout  heart  would  inscribe  on  her 
tomb. 


TURISTESTG  from  the  scenes  and  biography 
of  the  Old  Dispensation  to  those  of  the  New, 
is  like  going  from  a  planet  where  moonlight 
only  brightened  on  the  landscape,  forest  and 
flood ;  where  mysterious  shadows  swept 
along  the  rustling  woods  of  the  mountain- 
side, and  strange  voices  haunted  the  air,  and 
where  even  the  noblest  characters  were  in- 
vested with  a  romantic  interest ;  to  a  sphere 
where  the  glad  light  of  morning  floods  the 


262  MARTHA  AND  MARY. 

plains,  and  the  clear  accents  of  truth  and 
hope  greet  the  ear,  while  rejoicing  woman 
leaning  on  the  beating  heart  of  man,  her 
brow  calm  and  beautiful  in  the  dignity  of 
a  faith  which  looks  steadily  into  the  portal 
of  a  better  life,  breathes  a  sympathy  warm 
and  gushing  for  the  sorrows  of  a  common 
humanity. 

Christ  poured  this  new  effulgence  on  the 
paths  of  men,  and  taught  a  philanthropy 
expansive  as  his  own  infinite  benevolence. 
The  Divinity  of  the  Redeemer  was  veiled 
in  a  nature  that  could  sympathize  with  all 
that  was  lovely,  tender,  joyous,  or  mourn- 
ful, in  the  fallen  ones  he  came  to  save. 
Though  sinless,  he  was  a  man  of  sorrows, 
and  found  those  in  the  circle  of  his  follow- 
ers, with  whom  he  enjoyed  that  near  attach- 
ment, and  familiar  interchange  of  thought 
and  feeling  peculiar  to  the  intimacies  and 
fellowship  of  kindred  spirits. 


MARTHA  AND  MARY.  263 

The  family  of  Bethany — Martha,  Mary, 
and  Lazarus,  an  only  brother,  were  among 
those  cherished  friends  of  the  Saviour. — 

9 

They  were  evidently  orphans,  and  all  deep- 
ly devout.  He  often  sat  at  their  table,  and 
communed  with  them  in  the  unchecked 
gushings  of  his  great  and  oft  over-burdened 
heart.  While  pursuing  his  ministry  in  the 
region  about  Jerusalem,  not  unfrequently 
after  the  toil  and  travel  of  the  day,  the  scorn 
of  enemies,  and  misunderstanding  of  doubt- 
ing disciples,  he  sought  this  peaceful  home, 
to  refresh  his  drooping  spirit  with  the  cheer- 
ing cordialities  of  friendship,  pure  as  it  was 
changeless.  There,  looking  upon  Olivet,  in 
whose  solemn  shades  he  Avas  wont  to  pray, 
and  with  doomed  Salem,  whose  far-off 
murmur  was  heard  by  him,  pressing  upon 
his  soul,  he  sat  at  the  twilight  hour,  while 
they  washed  his  weary  feet,  and  bathed  his 
throbbing  temples.  And  then  with  an  eye 


264  MARTHA  AND   MARY. 

radiant  as  a  star,  and  a  smile  of  unearthly 
sweetness,  he  discoursed  to  them  of  his 
works  of  mercy,  and  his  glorious  kingdom, 
destined  to  restore  to  earth  her  primal  bles- 
sedness and  peace. 

It  was  well  they  had  not  a  full  disclosure 
of  his  ineffable  majesty,  for  they  could  not 
in  their  awful  reverence,  have  admitted  him 
into  all  the  secrecies  of  personal  regard,  and 
leaned  on  his  breast  in  unshrinking  trust. 
Oh !  what  a  guest  was  Inimanuel !  The 
Wonderful,  the  Counsellor — the  Almighty, 
bestowing  the  fulness  of  his  love  on  the 
creatures  of  his  power,  and  opening  to  them 
the  depths  of  his  heart. 

The  first  domestic  scene  narrated,  illus- 
trates the  contrast  of  character  in  the  two 
sisters.  The  Saviour  had  accepted  the 
invitation  of  the  elder  sister,  Martha,  to 
become  an  inmate  of  their  humble  dwel- 
ling. She  was  active  aud  impulsive,  ma- 


MARTHA  AND  MART.  265 

king  haste  to  spread  a  repast  worthy  of  her 
Lord.  Mary,  thoughtful  and  inquiring,  sat 
at  the  feet  of  Christ  to  hear  his  "  gracious 
words,"  forgetful  of  the  domestic  duties 
which  absorbed  Martha's  attention.  She 
was  of  calmer  temperament,  and  would 
have  made  a  recluse  of  elevated,  devotional 
spirit — one  of  that  saintly  few,  whose  souls 
are  "  as  when  the  waters  of  a  lake  are  suf- 
fered to  deposit  their  feculence,  and  to  be- 
come as  pure  as  the  ether  itself ;  so  that 
they  not  only  reflect  from  their  surface  the 
splendor  of  Heaven,  but  allow  the  curious 
eye  to  gaze  delighted  upon  the  decorated 
grottos  and  sparkling  caverns  of  the  depth 
beneath." 

She  was  riveted  to  her  seat  by  the  ac- 
cent of  Him  who  "  spake  as  never  man 
spake."  Martha  was  touched  by  this  neg- 
lect, and  in  her  sudden  irritation,  reproached 

Jesus  for  permitting  her  to  cast  the  entire 
12 


266  MARTHA  AND  MART. 

burden  of  household  cares  upon  another. 
Oh  !  there  is  the  mildness  and  majesty  of  a 
God  in  the  kind  reproof: — "Martha,  Mar- 
tha, thou  art  careful  and  troubled  about 
many  things ;  but  one  thing  is  needful ;  and 
Mary  hath  chosen  that  good  part  which 
shall  not  be  taken  from  her." 

But  that  domestic  group  soon  after  passed 
under  the  cloud  of  affliction.  The  brother, 
their  dependence  and.  constant  companion, 
was  smitten  down  by  disease,  and  wasting 
before  its  ravages,  while  Jesus  was  far  away 
preaching  to  the  multitudes  of  Bethabara. 
Therefore  the  sisters  sent  unto  him  saying : 
"  Lord,  behold  he  whom  thou  lovest  is  sick." 

Though  he  knew  it  all  before  the  mes- 
senger came,  and  was  a  deeply  interested 
spectator  of  that  distant  chamber  of  suffer- 
ing, he  did  not  hasten  hither,  but  tarried 
two  days  longer.  In  this  way  he  always 
answers  prayer — he  takes  his  own  time, 


MARTHA  AND  MART.  267 

and  though  he  may  seem  to  disappoint,  he 
sends  the  blessing  just  when  it  will  accom- 
plish the  highest  good  for  the  petitioner,  and 
advance  his  own  glory.  Accompanied  by 
his  disciples,  who  marvelled  at  his  strange 
language  concerning  the  now  departed  Laz- 
arus, for  whose  sake  he  was  about  to  expose 
himself  to  the  rage  of  his  foes,  the  Saviour 
journeyed  toward  Bethany.  Soon  as  Mar- 
tha heard  of  his  approach,  she  went  forth 
in  her  tears  to  meet  him,  while  Mary  in  her 
excessive  grief,  sat  in  the  desolate  dwelling, 
unconscious  of  passing  scenes,  and  unheed- 
ing the  footsteps  of  those  who  came  to  fling 
a  ray  of  comfort  athwart  the  gloom,  of  be- 
reavement. 

In  this  touching  incident,  is  again  devel- 
oped the  differing  shades  of  character  in 
these  lovely  maidens.  The  quiet  earnest- 
ness of  Mary,  makes  her  a  mourner  of 
inapproachable  and  sublime  sorrow — like 


268  MARTHA  AND  MARY. 

a  monument,  solemn  and  voiceless,  bear- 
ing only  the  inscription  of  the  dead  on  its 
breast.  She  was  one  who  felt  that 

"  With  silence  only  as  their  benediction, 

God's  angels  come 

Where  in  the  shadow  of  a  great  affliction 
The  soul  sits  dumb  1" 

But  Martha,  with  hurried  step,  sought 
the  highway  Jesus  was  travelling,  and  look- 
ing into  his  placid  face,  with  the  commin- 
gling emotions  of  sorrow  over  blasted  hope 
and  unabated  affection,  she  said,  "  If  thou 
hadst  been  here,  my  brother  had  not  died." 
He  replied  with  a  tone  of  authority,  "  Thy 
brother  shall  rise  again."  Doubtful  of  ttye 
import  of  this  calm  assurance,  yet  confiding 
in  his  power,  she  hastened  to  call  the  discon- 
solate Mary.  At  the  mention  of  his  name, 
she  also  ran  to  embrace  him,  and  in  the 
tones  of  bleeding  love,  used  the  same  lan- 
guage of  disappointment  which  just  before 
stirred  the  soul  of  her  returning  Lord. 


MARTHA  AND  MARY.  269 

The  crowd  who  had  gathered  to  extend 
their  condolence,  thought  the  mourners  had 
gone  to  the  tomb  to  weep  in  solitude,  and 
they  followed  in  the  distance ;  for  their  sym- 
pathies had  become  excited,  and  tears  fell 
like  rain.  When  Jesus  beheld  the  scene 
of  lamentation,  "  He  groaned  in  spirit  and 
was  troubled."  Oh!  what  internal  agita- 
tion was  there — how  that  bosom  in  which 
the  faintest  shadow  of  sin  had  never  dim- 
med the  unsullied  light  of  moral  excellence, 
was  tossed  with  emotion,  and  what  a  "  mas- 
tery of  love"  found  utterance ;  when  he 
said,  "  Where  have  ye  laid  him  ? "  "  Lord, 
come  and  see,"  was  the  hopeful  reply,  as 
they  turned  in  their  grief  to  the  sepulchre, 
which  enshrined  the  decaying  form  of  Laz- 
arus. Bending  over  it,  "Jesus  wept." 
The  Jews  marvelled  at  his  strong  love  for 
the  sleeper,  while  he  lifted  his  fervent 
prayer.  Then,  with  a  voice  so  loud  it  rang 


270  MARTHA   AND  MARY. 

through  the  hopeless  chamber  of  death,  and 
over  the  bright  tops  of  the  celestial  hills,  he 
cried,  "  Lazarus,  come  forth !"  and  the  mo- 
tionless heart  grew  warm  and  stirred,  the 
color  mantled  the  bandaged  cheek,  and  the 
light  of  a  living  soul  was  rekindled  beneath 
the  parted  lids !  The  buried  friend  of  Christ 
again  beheld  Him,  and  loosed  from  the  ha- 
biliments of  the  grave,  greeted  with  wonted 
tenderness,  the  astonished  yet  joyful  sisters. 

The  gratitude,  the  raptures,  and  frequent 
interviews  with  the  Son  of  God  which  fol- 
lowed, are  lost  with  the  countless  words 
of  wisdom,  and  acts  of  mercy  in  the  unwrit- 
ten history  of  Him  who  wasted  no  moments, 
and  neglected  no  sufferer  that  crossed  his 
path.  - 

A  few  days  before  the  last  passover, 
the  Saviour  went  again  to  Bethany,  with 
a  company  of  disciples.  The  family  on 
which  he  seemed  to  lavish  his  love  and 


MARTHA   AND  MART.  271 

confidence,  gave  him  a  supper.  Lazarus 
sat  by  his  side,  while  Martha,  with  charac- 
teristic vivacity,  and  generous  hospitality, 
prepared  the  feast ;  but  Mary  in  her  own 
beautiful  sensibility,  and  depth  of  feeling, 
noiseless  as  the  tide  that  lies  tranquilly  in 
its  unsounded  caves,  was  reclining  by  the 
feet  of  Jesus.  She  poured  upon  them  pre- 
cious ointment,  till  the  perfume  filled  the 
apartment,  and  wiped  those  sacred  limbs 
with  the  flowing  ringlets  of  her  raven  hair. 
It  was  the  occasion  of  bringing  out  the 
sordid  and  selfish  spirit  of  Judas,  who  com- 
plained of  Mary's  extravagance.  The  un- 
relenting malignity  of  his  open  enemies  was 
also  awakened  by  the  presence  of  the  bro- 
ther, He  had  recalled  from  the  realm  of  the 
dead.  Oh !  who  can  doubt  the  truthfulness 
of  this  simple  story,  when  at  no  point  can 
we  pause  and  say,  nature  is  not  here ;  or 
who  can  question  the  strength  and  mad- 


272  MARTHA  AND  MART. 

ness  of  that  depravity  wliicli  could  invade 
the  sweet  solemnities  of  such  a  scene  ? 

It  was  the  last  visit  of  the  Redeemer  to 
Bethany — that  anointing  was  for  his  burial 
— and  he  went  to  the  "  City  of  his  tears," 
to  be  the  martyr  of  a  world— and  a  specta- 
cle of  wonder  to  the  universe  he  made,  and 
which  a  breath  of  his  power  could  sweep 
away  like  the  gossamer  web  woven  in  the 
dew  of  morning. 

Among  the  many  lessons  of  this  biogra- 
phy, no  one  is  more  impressive  than  the  law 
of  kindness  and  charity,  seen  in  all  the  nar- 
rative and  enforced  by  the  rebuke  of  Christ 
to  Martha.  She  was  a  Christian,  ever  ac- 
tive, and  prompt  to  do  the  external  duties 
of  religion.  Because  Mary  was  of  a  dif- 
ferent temperament,  and  more  retiring,  she 
judged  her  harshly,  and  the  Redeemer  who 
would  not  send  her  away  from  his  feet. 

And  so  it  often  happens  that  a  Godly 


MARTHA   AND   MARY.  273 

person,  uniform  and  serious  in  character, 
will  condemn  another  whose  animal  spirits 
as  naturally  run  high,  and  whose  impul- 
ses are  like  the  rushing  wave.  There 
is  no  apology  for  a  sacrifice  of  principle — 
but  let  none  sit  self-complacently  in  judg- 
ment upon  a  fellow- worm,  when  God  by 
his  forming  hand,  has  emphatically  "  made 
them  to  differ" — but  learn  of  Him  who  was 
meek  and  lowly  of  heart,  by  a  frown  of 
displeasure  or  a  cruel  word,  never  to  "  break 
the  bruised  reed,  or  quench  the  smoking 
flax ;"  for  life  is  formed  of  trifles,  and  their 
imperishable  influence  and  value,  will  ap- 
pear in  the  grand  summing  up  of  the  final 

Judgment. 

12* 


CHRIST  ascended  from  Olivet,  the  Mount 
of  his  prayer,  and  with  uplifted  hands  left 
upon  the  disciples  who  gazed  after  his  lov- 
ed and  vanishing  form,  a  benediction  per- 
petual as  his  militant  church.  They  went 
forth  in  the  stern  heroism  of  primitive  apos- 
tleship  through  the  valleys  of  Judea,  and  to 
the  cities  that  dotted  them,  and  gemmed  the 
shores  of  distant  seas. 

Among  these  beacon-points  of  the  Gospel, 


276  DORCAS. 

was  Joppa,  or  anciently  Yaffa,  on  a  prom- 
ontory of  the  Mediterranean  coast,  forty 
miles  from  Jerusalem.  It  was  an  ancient 
city,  associated  with  the  names  of  ^Eolus, 
and  Andromeda  of  classical  fiction — it  is 
mentioned  by  Joshua,  and  was  the  port  to 
which  the  cedars  of  Lebanon  and  treasures 
of  kings  were  floated  for  the  first  and  sec- 
ond Temples  of  the  Holy  City.  Here 
Jonah  embarked  when  he  thought  "on 
the  wings  of  the  morning,"  to  flee  from 
the  hand  of  God.  Juda  Maccabeus,  to 
avenge  a  broken  treaty,  drove  two  hundred 
Jews  from  its  heights  into  the  sea,  and  made 
a  conflagration  of  the  shipping,  that  like  an 
opening  volcano,  illumined  the  wide  grave 
that  swept  over  them.  And  even  Napo- 
leon's legions  in  later  time  thundered  be- 
fore its  gates. 

But  all  these  events  recede  into  the  dim- 
ness of   eclipse,  around  the   scenes  which 


DORCAS.  277 

have  transpired  in  the  dwelling  of  Tabitha, 
and  which  shall  survive  the  cenotaphs  of 
royal  heroes  as  they  successively  moulder, 
written  in  the  history  and  blending  with 
the  converse  of  Heaven. 

She  was  a  pious  woman,  and  distinguish, 
ed  especially  for  an  expansive  and  active 
benevolence — a  deep  and  genial  sympathy 
for  the  "  fatherless  and  the  widow  in  their 
affliction."  She  may  have  been  bereft  of  a 
husband,  and  in  the  sad  discipline  of  domes- 
tic calamities  prepared  for  that  sublimest 
effort  of  an  immortal,  doing  good  in  a  world 
where  the  funeral  knell  never  ceases  to  roll 
its  fearful  cadence  on  the  reluctant  ear  of 
the  living,  and  tears  fall  more  constantly 
than  the  nightly  dew — and  where  hearts 
are  breaking,  and  spiritual  victories  gained 
and  battles  lost,  invested  with  an  interest 
compared  with  which,  a  falling  throne  and 
vanishing  empire,  are  no  more  than  the  shiv- 


278  DORCAS. 

ered  toy  and  bursting  bauble  on  the  play- 
ground of  childhood.  Or  she  may  have 
preferred  like  Hannah,  of  recent  memory, 
the  disencumbered  activity  of  single  life, 
and  stood  in  vestal  loveliness  beside  the 
altar  of  devotion  to  her  risen  Redeemer, 
whose  voice  of  love  seemed  yet  to  linger  in 
the  air  of  Palestine. 

Whatever  her  condition,  it  is  enough  to 
know  that  she  bent  all  her  energies  to  imi- 
tate the  faultless  model  of  philanthropy, 
and  extend  the  glory  of  His  name  by  illus- 
trating the  transcendent  excellence  of  Chris- 
tian character. 

But  in  the  midst  of  usefulness,  death 
calls  for  the  saint.  It  could  not  be  other- 
wise than  that  she  marked  his  approach 
with  a  smile,  and  went  down  untrembling- 
ly  into  the  valley  of  gloom.  The  corpse 
was  laid  out  in  "  an  upper  chamber,"  and 
from  the  hovels  of  the  poor,  and  dwell- 


DORCAS.  279 

ings  of  the  rich,  canie  the  mourners  to  weep 
together,  and  look  once  more  on  the  face  it 
had  been  so  pleasant  to  meet  when  upon 
her  errands  of  mercy.  Their  thoughts  turn- 
ed to  Peter,  whose  faith  and  intellectual 
energy  won  confidence,  and  maintained  an 
influence  unquestioned,  among  the  disciples 
of  Jesus. 

Two  messengers  hastened  to  Lydda,  in- 
formed him  of  their  irreparable  loss,  and  re- 
quested him,  without  delay,  to  return  with 
them  to  the  house  of  mourning.  When 
Peter  entered  the  room,  and  saw  the  weep- 
ing widows  Tabitha  had  comforted  and 
clothed,  encircling  the  dead,  and  also  the 
garments  she  had  made  for  the  destitute ; 
impressed  by  the  spirit,  he  felt  that  her  work 
was  not  done — the  struggling  church  could 
not  spare  the  shining  light. 

He  sent  the  unwilling  group  from  the 
apartment  in  wondering  silence,  and  knelt 


280  DORCAS. 

"by  the  pale  sleeper.  It  was  not  needful 
that  his  petition  should  be  long,  for  it  was 
the  "  fervent,  effectual  prayer  of  the  right- 
eous  man."  Then  looking  upon  the  marble 
brow,  he  said,  "  Tabitha,  arise !"  The  eye 
opened  with  its  wonted  lustre,  and  when 
she  saw  the  noble  apostle,  she  began  to  rise. 
Peter  extended  his  hand,  and  calling  to  "the 
saints  and  widows,"  presented  her  again 
to  their  cordial  greeting,  while  the  news 
spread  through  the  streets  of  Joppa.  The 
skeptical  were  convinced,  and  many  who 
had  scorned  the  Nazarene,  were  added  to 
the  number  of  true  believers. 

In  Scripture,  there  is  a  uniform  simplicity 
and  beauty,  which  dwells  upon  no  scene 
however  inviting,  if  unimportant  to  the 
great  design  of  Revelation.  Mystery  rests 
on  the  interval  between  the  death  and  res- 
urrection of  those  restored  to  life — upon  the 
inquiry  whether  they  brought  any  tidings 


DORCAS.  281 

from  the  unseen  land,  and  their  final  depart- 
ure from  earth. 

In  reviewing  the  sacred  annals  of  the 
past,  we  find  that  woman  has  often  laid  her 
hand  on  the  springs  of  a  world's  destiny, 
coiled  in  decisive  events ;  and  from  her 
sanctified  genius,  have  streamed  the  radi- 
ating lines  of  redeeming  influence  over  the 
world.  But  it  is  in  the  circle  of  home,  she 
puts  forth  a  power  exceeding  all  other  hu- 
man agency.  As  a  maiden,  she  can  elevate 
and  refine  a  brother,  or  strengthen  upon 
him  a  taste  for  exciting  pleasures,  which 
shall  hurry  him  away  from  the  moorings  of 
manly  principle  and  promise,  into  the  broad 
sweep  of  the  current  which  descends  at 
length  into  the  abyss  of  moral  ruin  in  time, 
blending  its  roar  with  the  dash  of  those  bil- 
lows which  have  no  shore,  and  whose  ship- 
wrecked victims  find  no  oblivious  grave.  In 
the  social  relation,  results  are  the  same. 


282  DORCAS. 

As  a  wife,  it  is  her's  to  make  the  domes- 
tic scene  attractive  and  benign  in  its  influ- 
ence upon  Mm  whose  happiness,  and  often 
destiny  forever,  is  at  her  disposal  under 
God.  They  are  in  one  bark  on  the  sea  of 
life — and  though  he  may  be  unskillful  or  er- 
ring, and  sink  her  treasure  of  hope  and  joy, 
yet  if  she  be  true  and  holy,  the  barge  will 
founder  long  before  it  goes  darkly  down, 
and  she  will  disappear  with  the  wreck 
like  an  angel  of  the  troubled  waters,  to  rise 
again  with  a  martyr's  wreath,  and  a  song 
of  victory. 

As  a  mother,  she  leaves  the  moulding 
impress  of  her  hand  on  her  oifspring,  as  the 
potter  on  the  clay,  he  shapes  to  honor  or 
dishonor.  A  pious  and  consistent  mother 
always  in  the  final  issue  has  her  reward. 
Nowhere  does  the  terrific  law,  "  as  a  man 
soweth,  so  shall  he  also  reap,"  come  in 
with  more  certain  consequences  than  in 


DORCAS.  283 

this  relation.  She  may  breathe  her  hal- 
lowed counsel  in  a  reluctant  ear — baptize 
a  brow  of  shame  with  her  tears,  and  lift 
her  prayer  with  breaking  heart  over  the 
couch  of  the  thoughtless  sleeper ;  but 
around  that  son,  is  flung  a  spell  the  song 
of  revelry  and  the  shout  of  blasphemy  can 
never  break.  He  will  be  haunted  through 
the  thousand-path  ed  labyrinth  of  sin,  with 
an  invisible  presence,  before  whose  gentle 
accents  and  heavenly  face  he  will  bow  and 
weep.  And  though  she  go  to  the  grave 
mourning  for  the  wanderer,  he  shall  come 
to  the  green  mound  in  after  life  and  make 
it  the  shrine  of  penitence  and  altar  of  con- 
secration to  God. 

And  silently  as  the  morning  light,  her 
influence  goes  forth  everywhere;  as  it 
once  marred,  so  is  it  to  be  mighty  in  re- 
storing the  glorious  image  of  the  Deity  to 
man. 


284  DORCAS. 

"  Oh !  if  now, 

Woman  would  b'ft  her  noble  wand  she  bore 

In  Paradise  so  transcendent,  and  which  still  she  wears 

Half-hidden  though  not  powerless,  and  again 

Wave  its  magic  power  o'er  pilgrim  man, 

How  would  she  win  him  from  apostasy, 

Lure  back  the  world  from  its  dim  path  of  woe, 

And  open  a  new  Eden  on  our  years." 


LIST  OF  BOOKS 

RECENTLY    PUBLISHED    BY 

DERBY  &  MILLER, 

AUBURN,  K  Y. 


The  Life  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  Sixth  President 
of  the  United  States,  by  Hon.  Win.  H.  Seward,  U.  S.  S., 
with  a  portrait  on  steel,  1 2mo.  muslin,  gilt  backs. 

*.*  20,000  copies  of  this  popular  work  have  been  sold  by  agents,  in  the  short 
space  of  eight  months. 

There  is,  indeed,  so  much  to  admire  throughout  the  whole  work,  that  were  we  to 
enter  into  anything  like  an  elaborate  review,  it  would  require  more  space  than  we 
san  spare.  *  The  Life  and  Public  Services  of  such 

a  man  as  John  Quincy  Adams,  furnish  the  very  material  for  such  a  pen  as  Gov. 
Seward's,  and  we  find  evidences  of  his  own  brilliant  intellect  impressed  upon  almost 
every  page  and  sentence.  Preserving  the  connection  of  events  with  almost  mathe- 
matical nicety,  at  the  same  time  avoiding  everything  tedious  and  prolix.  As  a 
writer,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  Gov.  Seward  has  any  superiors.  * 

—  Philadelphia  News,  {Whig.) 

It  would  be  a  task  of  no  ordinary  difficulty  for  a  contemporary,  one  who  has 
mingled  in  the  strife  and  arena  of  his  times,  to  write  an  impartial  Life  of  so  peculiar 
and  prominent  an  actor  (for  half  a  century)  as  Mr.  Adams.  *  *  Gov. 

Seward  has  attempted  it,  and  succeeded  in  producing  an  interesting  work,  character- 
ized by  ability  and  eloquence.  *  *  We  consider  it  worthy  of  public 
attention. —  Albany  Argus,  (Dem.) 

We  have  read  this  volume  with  great  satisfaction,  and  hasten  to  express  our 
thanks  to  the  author ;  not  merely  for  the  pleasures  afforded  us,  but  for  the  ser- 
vices rendered  humanity.  *  *  __  *  —  Louisville  Examiner, 
Anti-Slavery. 


BOOKS   RECENTLY   PUBLISHED    BY    DERBY    &   MILLER. 


SEWARD'S  LIFE  OF  JOHN  Q.  ADAMS. 


*  We  are  glad  to  see  a  pretty  full  account  of  Mr.  Adams'  Anti-Slavery 
efforts  in  Congress  have  been  given ;  for,  great  as  his  public  services  were  during  a 
long  life,  his  greatest  fame  with  the  present  and  future  generations,  will  rest  upon 
his  efforts  to  break  down  the  Slave  power.    The  great  men  who  eulogized  Mr. 
Adams  in  Congress  and  elsewhere,  generally  passed  silently  over  this  part  of  his 
life,  as  if  it  was  something  not  very  creditable  to  him,  and  to  be  talked  about  as  little 
as  possible.    Mr.  Seward  has  taken  a  better  view  of  the  subject.    We  can  recom- 
mend this  biography  as  being  a  clear  and  concise  history  of  Mr.  Adams'  life.        * 

*  *    Lowell  Republican,  (Free  Soil.) 

It  is  a  work  well  written,  prepared  evidently  with  care,  conveys  an  excellent  idea 
of  the  life  and  services  of  that  distinguished  patriot  and  statesman.  It  is  well 
adapted  for  popular  reading,  and  comes  within  the  means  of  every  citizen.  *  * 
And  possessing,  as  it  does,  a  fund  of  historical  and  biographical  information,  of  the 
most  interesting  description,  it  will  be  a  desirable  book  for  the  library  and  a  welcome 
companion  to  any  man  who  cherishes  a  respect  for  the  memory  of  Adams.  * 

*  Boston  Journal. 

*  We  have  read  it  and  are  delighted  with  the  good  taste  and  discrimina- 
tion with  which  facts  and  cotemporary  events  are  brought  in  to  show  forth  the 
noble  and  manly  stand  of  John  Quincy  Adams.    Next  to  our  national  pride,  that  we 
have  such  great  and  good  men  to  adorn  the  pages  of  our  history,  we  should  glory  in 
having  authors  like  Wm.  II.  Seward,  to  chronicle  their  lives  and  their  deeds.    * 

*  Massachusetts  Eagle. 

The  association  of  such  names  as  Adams  and  Soward,  one  as  the  subject  of  the 
biography,  and  the  other  as  the  biographer,  must  give  to  this  work  an  interest  which 
rarely  attaches  to  anything  emanating  from  an  American  pen.  *  *  * 

Washington  Advocate. 

We  would  recommend  this  work  to  every  class  of  mind  —  to  the  vicious,  that  they 
way  be  benefited  by  the  contrast — to  the  virtuous,  that  they  may  be  incited  to  siijl 
higher  attainments  —  to  the  patriot,  that  the  love  of  country  may  be  renewed  in  his 
bosom  —  to  the  Christian,  that  he  may  see  how  to  honor  God  in  exalted  positions  — 
to  the  young,  that  they  may  drink  from  the  pure  rill  of  patriotism,  an'l  learn  to 
cherish  and  protect  their  privileges  —  and  lastly  to  the  old,  that  they  may  yet  once 
more  read  the  lessons  of  wisdom,  as  they  distilled  from  the  lips  of  him  who  was  a 
Nestor  among  statesmen.—  Wisconsin  Chronicle. 

This  volume  has  been  now  but  a  few  months  before  the  public,  during  which  we 
understand  that  some  20,000  copies  have  been  circulated.  The  fact  is  sufficient  to 
show  that  the  deceased  statesman  has  found  a  worthy  biographer.  Designed  for 
popular  use,  and  prepared  from  the  materials  existing  in  public  documents  arid 
journals,  it  is  a  book,  nevertheless,  that  cannot  fail  to  be  read  with  interest  by  the 
scholar  as  well  as  the  masses.  The  writer  seems  imbued  with  a  sincere  reverence 
for  the  great  man  whose  career  he  chronicles,  and  depicts  its  various  eventful 
incidents  with  spirit  and  fidelity.  There  is  no  book  that  we  now  remember,  which 
presents  in  the  same  compass  so  much  that  is  interesting  in  our  history,  during  the 
period  of  which  it  treats.—  Washington  Republic. 


BOOKS   RECENTLY   PUBLISHED   BY   DERBY   &   MILLER. 

The  Lives  of  Mary  and  Martha,  mother  and 
wife  of  Washington :  by  Margaret  C.  Conkling, 
with  a  steel  portrait,  18mo,  scarlet  cloth. 

Miss  CONKLING,  who  is  a  daughter  ef  Judge  Conkling  of  Auburn  is  favorahiv 
^0^a»lhlHaU^0r  °f  Hfrrr>s  translation  of  «  Florian's  HistoT of? the Moors 
of  Spam."  She  also  wrote  "  Isabel,  or  the  Trials  of  the  Heart."  In  The  DrenaraZn 
of  the  pretty  little  volume  she  has  done  a  praiseworthy  deed  and  we  Lpe  she  "m 
receive  the  reward  she  merits.  She  has  taught  us  in  the  work 


how  divine  a  thing 
A  woman  may  be  made." 

.h^.,^^15  f!  wif<?  of  Washington  were,  in  many  respects,  mode)  women,  and 
£awn  ofthT  Amerl(Va.wl11  d°  we»  to  smdy  their  chiracter  -  which  is  finely 
drawn  on  these  pages.—  Literary  Messenger. 

This  beautifully  printed  and  elegantly  bound  little  work,  reflecting  the  highest 
credit  upon  the  skill  and  task  of  the  publishers,  contains  biographical  sketches  of 
Mary,  the  mother,  and  Martha,  the  wife  of  the  Father  of  his  country.  It  is  a  most 
valuable  contribution  to  the  history  of  the  American  people,  embracin"  not  only  the 
great  public  events  of  the  century  during  which  the  subjects  lived,  but  those  pictures 
31  home  life,  and  that  exhibition  of  social  manners  and  customs,  which  constitute 
the  most  important  part  of  life,  but  which,  from  the  fact  of  their  apparent  triviality 
and  intangibility,  the  historian  generally  passes  over.  The  authoress  evidently 
sympathises  earnestly  with  her  subject,  and  feels  that  in  the  exhibition  of  those 
womanly  virtues  which  characterized  the  heroines  of  her  narrative  she  makes  the 
most  eloquent  plea  in  favor  of  the  dignity  of  her  sex.  It  is  dedicated  to  Mrs.  WM 
H.  SEWARD,  and  contains  a  finely  executed  engraving  of  the  wife  of  Washington 
We  cordially  commend  it  to  the  public,  and  most  especially  our  lady  readers  — 
Syracuse  Journal. 

This  acceptable  and  well  written  volume  goes  forth  upon  a  happy  mission, 
"  To  teach  us  how  divine  a  thing 
A  woman  may  be  made," 

by  unfolding  those  charms  of  characte*  which  belong  to  the  mother  and  wife  of  the 
hero  of  the  Land  of  the  Free ;  and  in  the  companionship  of  which,  while  they  illus- 
trated the  watchful  tenderness  of  a  mother,  and  the  confiding  affections  of  a  wife, 
is  shown  those  influences  which  made  up  the  moral  sentiments  of  a  man,  whose 
moral  grandeur  will  be  felt  in  all  that  is  future  in  government  or  divine  in 
philosophy  ;  and  one  whose  name  is  adored  by  all  nations,  as  the  leader  of  man  in 
in  the  progress  of  government,  to  that  perfection  of  human  rights  where  all  enjoy 
liberty  and  equality.  To  say  that  Miss  Conkling  has  fulfilled  the  task  she  says  a 
"  too  partial  friendship  has  assigned  her "  faultlessly,  would  perhaps  be  too 
unmeasured  praise,  for  perfection  is  seldom  attained;  but  it  will  not  be  denied  but 
that  her  biographies  are  traced  in  the  chaste  elegances  that  belong  to  the  finished 
periods  of  a  refined  style,  which  fascinates  the  reader  with  what  she  has  thus  contri- 
buted to  our  national  literature. 

The  design  of  the  volume  is,  to  picture  a  mother  fitting  the  "  Father  of  his 
Country  "  in  a  light  full  of  the  inexhaustible  nobleness  of  woman's  nature,  and  yet 
as  possessing  that  subdued  and  quiet  simplicity,  where  Truth  becomes  the  Hope  on 
which  Faith  looks  at  the  future  with  a  smile.  The  mother  of  Washington  was 
tried  in  a  school  of  practice  where  frugal  habits  and  active  industry  were  combined 
with  the  proverbial  excellences  of  those  Virginia  matrons,  who  were  worthy  mothers 
of  such  men  as  Washington,  Jefferson,  Marshall,  and  Henry.  Miss  C.  has  pictured 
with  fidelity  and  elegance,  her  views  of  this  remarkable  woman  ;  not  less  beauti- 
fully has  she  sketched  the  character  of  Martha,  the  wife  ;  following  her  from  her 
brilliant  manners  as  the  Virginia  belle,  through  the  various  phases  of  her  life,  she 
gives  a  rapid  but  comprehensive  view  of  those  characteristics  which  make  up  the 
quiet  refinement  of  manners  native  to  her,  and  which  ever  gave  her  the  reputation 
of  an  accomplished  wife  and  lady.  And  with  peculiar  delicacy  Miss  Conkling  has 
portrayed  the  thousand  virtues  with  which  she  embellished  a  home ;  her  amiable 
disposition  and  winning  manners  made  the  happiest  to  the  purest  and  best  of  all 
men  fame  has  chosen  for  its  noblest  achievments.—  Syracuse  Star. 


BOOKS    RECENTLY   PUBLISHED    BY    DERBY   &   MILLER. 

The  American  Fruit  Culturist :  By  J.  J.  Thomas; 
containing  directions  for  the  propagation  and  culture  of 
Fruit  Trees,  in  the  Nursery,  Orchard,  and  Garden;  with 
descriptions  of  the  principal  American  and  Foreign  varieties 
cultivated  in  the  United  States:  with  300  accurate  illustra- 
tions. 1  volume,  of  over  400  pages,  12mo.  $1,00 

A  cheaper,  but  equally  valuable  book  with  Downing's  was  wanted  by  the  great 
mass.  Just  such  a  work  has  Mr  Thomas  given  us.  We  consider  it  an  invaluable 
addition  to  our  agricultural  libraries. — Wool  Grower. 

We  predict  for  it  a  very  rapid  sale  ;  it  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  fruit  grower 
and  especially  every  nurseryman.  It  is  a  very  cheap  book  for  its  price.—  Ohio 
Cultivator. 

It  is  a  most  valuable  work  to  all  engaged  in  the  culture  of  fruit  trees.—  Utica 
Herald. 

It  is  a  book  of  great  value.—  Genesee  Farmer. 

Among  all  the  writers  on  fruits,  we  do  not  know  of  one  who  is  Mr.  Thomas' 
superior,  if  his  equal,  in  condensing  important  matter.  He  gets  right  at  the  pith  of 
the  thing  —  he  gives  you  that  which  you  wish  to  know  at  once  ;  stripped  of  all  use- 
less talk  and  twattle.  No  man  has  a  keener  eye  for  the  best  ways  of  doing  things. 
Hence  we  always  look  into  his  writings  with  the  assurance  that  we  shall  find  some- 
thing new,  or  some  improvements  on  the  old ;  and  we  are  seldom  disappointed. 
This  book  is  no  exception.  It  is  full.  There  is  no  vacant  space  in  it.  It  is  like  a 
fresh  egg—  all  good,  and  packed  to  the  shell  full.—  Prairie  Farmer. 

In  the  volume  before  us  we  have  the  result  of  the  author's  experience  and  obser- 
vations, continued  with  untiring  perseverance  for  many  years,  in  language  at  once 
concise  and  perspicuous. —  Albany  Cultivator. 

We  can  say  with  confidence  to  our  readers,  that  if  you  need  a  book  to  instruct  you 
in  the  modes  of  growing  trees,  &c.,  from  the  first  start,  the  systems  of  pruning,  etc., 
etc.,  you  will  find  the  American  Fruit  Culturist  an  extremely  valuable  work.  The 
million  who  purchase  it,  will  find  matter  adapted  to  their  wants,  superior  to  any 
work  as  yet  published. —  Cleveland  Herald. 

For  sale  in  New  York  by  M.  H.  NEWMAN  &  CO.  and  C.  M.  SAXTON. 
Boston,  B.  B.  MUSSEY  <fe  CO.  Philadelphia,  THOMAS,  COWPERTHWAITE  & 
CO. 

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post  paid.  Direct  to  DERBY  &  MILLER, 

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